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JOHNSONIANA 



johnsoniana; 



OR, 



SUPPLEMENT TO B S W E L L 



ANECDOTES AND SAYINGS OF 
DR. JOHNSON, 





COLLECTED BY 




nozzi, 


AVINDHAM, 


PARKER, 


HAWKINS, 


NICHOLS, 


ROSE, 


TYEnS, 


HUMPHRY, 


GREEN, 


HOOLE, 


HANNAH MORE, 


REED, 


STEEVEXS, 


PARR, 


KEAKSLf.y 


REYNOLDS, 


MAD. d'aRBLAY, 


KNOWLES, 


CUMBEBLANIl, 


HORNE, 


SMITH, 


CRADOCK, 


BARETTI, 


WARNER, 


SEWARD, 


LADY KNIGHT, 


KING, 


MVRPHT, 


NORTHCOTE, 


BOOTHBV, 


BEATTIE, 


PERCY, 


PEPYS, 


MISS HAWKINS, 


STOCKDALE, 
&C. &C. &C. 

EDITED BY 


CARTER, 


J. 


WILSON CRORER. 





PHILADELPHIA: 

CAREY AND HART 
1842. 



TT\3533 

.J(o 

ig'4 2. 



j\ ,,., i /►* 






. S* v\\c c^'vIZ*«^M 



T. K. & P. G. Collins, Printers. 






ADVERTISEMENT. 



In this volume the reader has presented to him a mass of 
miscellaneous Anecdotes and Sayings, gathered from nearly 
a hundred different publications; which could not be pro- 
duced as notes to Boswell, without overloading and per- 
plexing his pages, but which are essential to the completion 
of the intellectual portrait of Johnson. Taken by them- 
selves alone, these Ana might, it is presumed, claim a 
place with the best books of that popular description, in 
our own or in any other language. They form, it will 
hardly be disputed, one of the richest collections of Mate- 
rials for Thinking that can be pointed out in literature. 



TABLE OF CONTENTS 



ANECDOTES AND SAYINGS OF DR. JOHNSON:— 

Page. 

Part I. — By Mrs. Piozzi, - - - 17 

II. — Sir John Hawkins, ... 126 

III.— Thomas Tyers, - - - 161 

IV. — John Hoole, Esq,. - - - 171 

V. — George Steevens, Esq. - - 183 

VI. — Miss Reynolds, - - - 192 

VII, — Richard Cumberland, Esq. - - 215 

VIII. — Joseph Cradock, Esq. - - 222 

IX. — Mr. Wickins of Lichfield, - - 230 

X. — Mr. Green of Lichfield, - - 233 

XL— Rev. Mr. Parker, - - - 234 

XII.— Mrs. Rose, - - - - 237 

XIII. — William Seward, Esq. - - 240 

XIV.— Ozias Humphry, R. A. - - 243 

XV. — Sir Joshua Reynolds, - - 245 

XVI.— Madame D'Arblay, - - - 257 

XVIL— Dr. Beattie, - - - - 283 

XVIIL— The Right Hon. W. Windham, - 287 

XIX.— Hannah More, - - - 296 

XX. — Bishop Horne, - - - 306 

XXI. — John Northcote, R. A. - - 311 

XXII. — Miss Seward, - - - 318 

XXni.— Dr. Parr, - - - - 330 

XXIV. — Joseph Baretti, - - - 341 

XXV.— Bishop Percy, - - - 346 

XXVI. — Lady Knight, - - - 353 

XXVII. — Rev. Perceval Stockdale, - - 356 

XXVIIL— Miss Hawkins, - - - 361 

XXIX. — John Nichols, Esq. - . - 367 

XXX. — Arthur Murphy, Esq. - - 371 



TABLE OF CONTENTS. 



Page. 



XXXI, — Critical Remarks by Nathan Drake, 

M. D. - - - - 380 

XXXII. — Anecdotes, Opinions, and Remarks, by 
G. Kearsley, Sir Brooke Boothby, 
Dr. John Moore, R. Warner, J. T. 
Smith, Mrs. Knowles, Mr. Isaac 
Reed, W. W. Pepys, Esq. Rev. Mon- 
tagu Pennington, Mrs. Elizabeth 
Carter, Lord Chedworth, Dr. An- 
derson, James Prior, Esq. Rev. W. 
Cole, Robert Barclay, Esq. Wil- 
liam Cooke, Esq. Alexander Chal- 
mers, Esq. Rev. Vicesimus Knox, Dr. 
Fordyce, William Cowper, Esq. Dr. 
William King, Dugald Stewart, 
Lord Byron, Sir Walter Scott, Sir 
James Mackintosh, &c. &c. &c. - 396 
XXXIII. — Jeux d'Esprit on Johnson's Biogra- 



No. 1. Lesson in Biography; or, How to write the Life of 

One's Friend. By Alexander Chalmers, Esq. 4G9 

2. Dr. Johnson's Ghost. A Poem. - - . 475 

3. A Posthumous Work on S.Johnson, An Ode, by 

George Colman, Esq. . - . . 476 

4. A Poetical and Congratulatory Epistle to James 

Boswell, Esq. on his Journal of a Tour to the 
Hebrides with the celebrated Dr. Johnson. By 
Peter Pindar, Esq. .... 478 

5. BozzyandPiozzi; or, The British Biographers. A 

pair of Town Eclogues. By Peter Pindar, Esq. 484 

6. Inscription on a Caricature of Johnson and Ma- 

dame piozzi, by Sayers, - - . - 498 

XXXIV, — Brief Memoir of Boswell, by Edmond 
Malone Esq,; Extracts from Bos- 
well's Letters to Malone, Ex- 
tracts from Boswell's Tour in Cor- 
sica, ----- 499 



JOHNSONIANA. 



Part I. 



ANECDOTES OF DR. JOHNSON, 
BY MRS. PIOZZI.* 



1. Introductory. 

I AM aware that many Avill say, I have not spoken highly 
enough of Dr. Johnson; but it will be difficult for those 
who say so, to speak more highly. If I have described 
his manners as they were, I have been careful to show his 
superiority to the common forms of common life. It is 
surely no dispraise to an oak that it does not bear jessa- 
mine; and he who sliould plant honeysuckle round Trajan's 
column, would be thought not to adorn, but to disgrace it. 
When I have said, that he was more a man of genius than 
of learning, I mean not to take from the one part of his 
character that which I willingly give to the other. The 
erudition of Mr. Johnson proved his genius; for he had 
not acquired it by long or profound study; nor can I think 
those characters the greatest which have most learning 
driven into their heads, any more than I can persuade my- 
self to consider the river Jenisca as superior to the Nile, 
because the first receives near seventy tributary streams in 
the course of its unmarked progress to the sea, while the 
great parent of African plenty, flowing from an almost in- 
visible source, and unenriched by any extraneous waters, 

* First published in 1785. 



18 JOHNSONIANA. 

except eleven nameless rivers, pours his majestic torrent 
into the ocean by seven celebrated mouths. 

2. Bodily Exercises. 

Mr. Johnson was very conversant in the art of attack 
and defence by boxing, which science he had learned from 
his uncle Andrew,* I believe; and I have heard him des- 
cant upon the age when people were received, and when 
rejected, in the schools once held for that brutal amuse- 
ment, much to the admiration of those who had no expec- 
tation of his skill in such matters, from the sight of a 
figure which precluded all possibility of personal prowess; 
though, because he saw Mr. Thrale one day leap over a 
cabriolet stool, to sliow that he was not tired after a chase 
of fifty miles or more, lie suddenly jumped over it too; but 
in a way so strange and so unwieldy, that our terror lest he 
should break his bones took from us even the power of 
laughing. 

3, Showing off Children. 

The trick Avhich most parents play with their children, 
of showing off their newly-acquired accomplishments, dis- 
gusted Mr. Johnson beyond expression: he had been treat- 
ed so himself, he said, till he absolutely loathed his father's 
caresses, because he knew they were sure to precede some 
unpleasing display of his early abilities; and he used, when 
neighbours came o' visiting, to run up a tree that he might 
not be found and exhibited, such, as no doubt he was, a 
prodigy of early understanding. His epitaph upon the 
duck he killed by treading on it at five years old, " Here 
lies poor duck," &c, is a striking example of early expan- 
sion of mind, and knowledge of language; yet he always 
seemed more mortified at the recollection of the busde his 
parents made with his wit, than pleased with the thoughts 
of possessing it. " That," said he to me one day, " is the 
great misery of late marriages; the unhappy produce of 
Siem becomes the plaything of dotage: an old man's child," 

* [" I had an uncle Andrew, my father's brother, who kept the 
ring in Smilhfield (where the)' wrestled and boxed), for a whole 
year, and never was thrown or conquered." See Boswell's John- 
son, vol. i. p. 312, edit. 1835.J 



piozzi. 19 

continued he, "leads such a Ufe, I thmk, as a little boy's 
dog, teased with awkward fondness, and forced, perhaps, 
to sit up and beg, as we call it, to divert a company, who 
at last go away complaining of their disagreeable enter- 
tainment." In consequence of these maxims, and full 
of indignation against such parents as delight to produce 
their young ones early into the talking world, I have 
known Mr. Johnson give a good deal of pain, by refusing 
to hear the verses the children could recite, or the songs 
they could sing; particularly one friend who told him that 
his two sons should repeat Gray's Elegy to him alternately, 
that he might judge who had the happiest cadence. " No, 
pray sir," said he, "let the dears both speak it at once; 
more noise will by that means .be made, and the noise 
will be sooner over." 

4. Parson Ford. 

Mr. Johnson always spoke to me of his cousin, the 
Rev. Mr. Ford,* with tenderness, praising his acqviaint- 
ance with life and manners, and recollecting one piece of 
advice that no man sui'ely ever followed more exactly. 
" Obtain," says Ford, " some general principles of every 
science; he who can talk only on one subject, or act only 
in one department, is seldom wanted, and perhaps never 
wished for; while the man of general knowledge can often 
benefit, and always please." He used to relate, however, 
another story less to the credit of his cousin's penetration, 
how Ford on some occasion said to him, "You will make 
your way the more easily in the world, I see, as you are 
contented to dispute no man's claim to conversation ex- 
cellence; they will, therefore, more willingly allow your 
pretensions as a writer." 

5. JohnsoTi's Nurse. — Children's Books. 

Dr. Johnson first learned to read of his mother and her 
old maid Catherine, in whose lap he Avell remembered 
sitting while she explained to him the story of St. George 
and the Dragon. The recollection of such reading as had 

* Cornelius Ford, according to Sir John Hawkins, was his 
cousin-german, being the son of Dr. Ford, an eminent physician, 
"who was brother to Johnson's mother. — Malone. 



20 JOHNSONIANA. 

delighted him in his infancy, made him always persist in 
fancying that it Avas the only reading which could please 
an infant; and he used to condemn me for putting New- 
bery's books into their hands, as too trifling to engage 
their attention, " Babies do not want," said he, " to hear 
about babies; they like to be told of giants and castles, 
and of somewhat which can stretch and stimulate their 
little minds." When in answer I would urge the nu- 
merous editions and quick sale of Tommy Prudent or 
Goody Two Shoes: " Remember always," said he, " that 
the parents buy the books, and that the children never read 
them." Mrs. Barbauld, however, had his best praise, and 
deserved it: no man was more struck than Mr. Johnson 
with voluntary descent from possible splendour to painful 
duty. 

6. Dreams and Ghosts. 

I have heard him relate an odd thing of himself, but it 
is one which everybody has heard as well as I: how, 
when he was about nine years old, having got the play of 
Hamlet in his hand, and reading it quietly in his father's 
kitchen, he kept on steadily enough, till, coming to the 
ghost scene, he suddenly hurried up stairs to the street 
door that he might see people about him: such an inci- 
dent, as he was not unwilling to relate it, is probably in 
every one's possession now; he told it as a testimony to 
the merits of Shakspeare: but one day when my son Avas 
going to school, and dear Dr. Johnson followed as far as 
the garden gate, praying for his salvation, in a voice which 
those who listened attentively could hear plain enough, 
he said to me suddenly, " Make your boy tell you his 
dreams: the first corruption that entered into my heart was 
communicated in a dream." "What was it, sir?" said I. 
"Do not ask me," replied he, with much violence, and 
walked away in apparent agitation. I never durst make 
any further inquiries. 

7. Education of Children. 

Mr. Johnson was exceedingly disposed to the general 
indulgence of children, and was even scrupulously and 
ceremoniously attentive not to offend them: he had strongly 
persuaded himself of the difficulty people always ^.nd to 



piozzi. 21 

erase early impressions either of kindness or resentment, 
and said, " he should never have so loved his mother 
when a man, had she not given him coffee she could ill 
afford, to gratify his appetite when a boy." 

" If you had had children, sir," said I, " would you 
have taught them anything ?" " I hope," replied he, 
" that I should have willingly lived on bread and water 
to obtain instruction for them; but I would not have set 
their future friendship to hazard, for the sake of thrusting 
into their heads knowledge of things for which they might 
not perhaps have either taste or necessity. You teach 
your daughters the diameters of the planets, and wonder, 
when you have done, that they do not delight in your com- 
pany. No science can be communicated by mortal creatures 
without attention from the scholar; no attention can be 
obtained from children without the infliction of pain, and 
pain is never remembered without resentment." That 
something should be learned was, however, so certainly 
his opinion, that I have heard him say, how education had 
been often compared to agriculture, yet that it resembled it 
chiefly in this: " that if nothing is sown, no crop," says 
he, " can be obtained." His contempt of the lady Avho 
fancied her son could be eminent without study, because 
Shakspeare was found wanting in scholastic learning, was 
expressed in terms so gross and so well known, I will not 
repeat them here. 

The remembrance of what had passed in his own child- 
hood, made Mr. Johnson very solicitous to preserve the 
felicity of children; and when he had persuaded Dr. 
Sumner to remit the tasks usually given to fill up boys' 
time during the holidays, he rejoiced exceedingly in the 
success of his negotiation, and told me that he had never 
ceased repi'esenting to all the eminent schoolmasters in 
England, the absurd tyranny of poisoning the hour of per- 
mitted pleasure, by keeping future misery before the chil- 
dren's eyes, and tempting them by bribery or falsehood to 
evade it. " Bob Sumner," said he, " however, I have at 
length prevailed upon: I know not, indeed, whether his 
tenderness was persuaded, or his reason convinced, but the 
effect will always be the same." Poor Dr. Sumner died, 
however, before the next vacation. 



22 JOHNSONIANA. 

8. Positive and General. 

Mr. Johnson was of opinion, too, that young people 
should have positive, not general, rules given for their 
direction. "My mother," said he, "was always telling 
me that I did not 6e/mt'e myself properly; that I should 
endeavour to learn behovioitr, and such cant: but when I 
replied, that she ought to tell me what to do, and what to 
avoid, her admonitions were commonly, for that time at 
least, at an end." This, I fear, was, however, at best a 
momentary refuge, found out by perverseness. No man 
knew better than Johnson in how many nameless and 
numberless actions behaviour consists: actions which can 
scarcely be reduced to rvde, and which come under no 
description. Of tliese he retained so many very strange 
ones, that I suppose no one who saw his odd manner of 
gesticulation, much blamed or Avondered at the good lady's 
solicitude concerning her son's behaviour. 

9. Parental Authority. 

Though he Avas attentive to the peace of children in 
general, no man had a stronger contempt than he for such 
parents as openly profess that they cannot govern their 
children. "How," says he, "is an army governed? 
Such people, for the most part, multiply prohibitions till 
obedience becomes impossible, and authority appears ab- 
surd; and never suspect that they teaze their family, their 
friends, and themselves, only because conversation runs 
low, and something must be said." 

Of parental authority, indeed, few people thought with 
a lower degree of estimation. I one day mentioned the 
resignation of Cyrus to his father's will, as related by 
Xenophon, when, after all his conquests, he requested the 
consent of Cambyses to his marriage with a neighbouring 
princess; and I added Rollin's applause and recommend- 
ation of the example. " Do you not perceive, then," says 
Johnson, " that Xenophon on this occasion commends like 
a pedant, and Pere Rollin applauds like a slave? If Cyrus 
by his conquests had not purchased emancipation, he had 
conquered to little purpose indeed. Can you bear to see 
the folly of a fellow who has in his care the lives of thou- 
sands, when he begs his papa permission to be married, 



piozzi. 23 

and confesses liis inability to decide in a matter which con- 
cerns no man's happiness but his own?" 

Mr. Johnson caught me another time reprimanding the 
daughter of my housekeeper for having sat down unper- 
mitted in her mother's presence. " Why, she gets her 
living, does she not," said he, " without her mother's help? 
Let the wench alone," continued he. And when we were 
again out of the women's sight who were concerned in the 
dispute: " Poor people's children, dear lady," said he, 
" never respect them: I did not respect my own mother, 
though I loved her: and one day, when in anger she called 
me a puppy, I asked her if she knew what they called a 
puppy's mother?" 

We were talking of a young fellow who used to come 
often to the house; he was about fifteen years old, or less, 
if I remember right, and had a manner at once svdlen and 
sheepish. "That lad," says Mr. Johnson, "looks like 
the son of a schoolmaster; which," added he, " is one of 
the very worst conditions of childhood: such a boy has no 
father, or Avorse than none; he never can reflect" on his 
parent, but the reflection brings to his mind some idea of 
pain inflicted, or of sorrow suffered." 

10. Cultivation of Memory. 

I will relate one thing more that Dr. Johnson said about 
babyhood before I quit the subject; it was this: " That 
little people should be encouraged always to tell whatever 
they hear particularly striking, to some brother, sister, or 
servant, immediately before the impression is erased by the 
intervention of newer occurrences. He perfectly remem- 
bered the first time he ever heard of heaven and hell," he 
said, " because when his mother had made out such a de- 
scription of both places as she thought likely to seize the 
attention of her infant auditor, who was then in bed with 
her, she got up, and dressing him before the usual time, 
sent him directly to call a favourite workman in the house, 
to whom she knew he would communicate the conversa- 
tion while it was yet impressed upon his mind. The 
event was what she wished; and it was to that method 
chiefly that he owed his uncommon felicity of remembering 
distant occurrences, and long past conversations." 



24 JOHNSONIANA. 

11. Oxford. 

Dr. Johnson delighted in his own partiality for Oxford; 
and one day, at my house, entertained five members of the 
other university with various instances of the superiority of 
Oxford, enumerating the gigantic names of many men whom 
it had produced, Avith apparent triumph. At last I said to 
him, "Why, there happens to be no less than five Cam- 
bridge men in the room now." "I did not," said he, 
"think of that till you told me; but the wolf don't count 
the sheep." When the company were retired, we hap- 
pened to be talking of Dr. Barnard, the Provost of Eton, 
who died about that time; and, after a long and just eulo- 
gium on his wit, his learning, and his goodness of heart: 
" He was the only man, too," says Mr. Johnson, quite se- 
riously, " that did justice to my good breeding; and you 
may observe that I am well bred to a degree of needless 
scrupulosity. No man," continued he, not observing the 
amazement of his hearers, "no man is so cautious not to 
interrupt another; no man thinks it so necessary to appear 
attentive when others are speaking; no man so steadily re- 
fuses preference to himself, or so willingly bestows it on 
another, as I do; nobody holds so strongly as I do the 
necessity of ceremony, and the ill effects Avhich follow the 
breach of it: yet people think me rude; but Barnard did 
me justice." " 'Tis pity," said I, laughing, " that he had 
not heard you compliment the Cambridge men after dinner 
to-day." 

Sir William Browne the physician, who lived to a very 
extraordinary age,* and was in other respects an odd mor- 
tal, with more genius than understanding, and more self- 
sufficiency than wit, was the only person who ventured to 
oppose Mr. Johnson, when he had a mind to shine by ex- 
alting his favourite university, and to express his contempt 
of the whigish notions which prevail at Cambridge. He 
did it once, however, with surprising felicity: his antago- 

* He died in March 1774, at the age of eiphty-two. It is no- 
where stated, that I know of, that this epio:ram was made extem- 
poraneously on a provocation from Dr. Johnson. See an account 
of Sir William Browne, and a more accurate version of the two 
epigrams, in the Biographical Dictionary. — Croker. 



piozzx. 25 

nist having repeated with an air of triumph the famous epi- 
gram written by Dr. Trapp, 

" Our royal master saw, with heedful eyes, 
The wants of his two universities; 
Tro ps he to Oxford sent, as knowing why 
That learned body wanted loyalty: 
But books to Cambrige gave, as, well discerning, 
That that right loyal body wanted learning." 

Which, says Sir William, might well be answered thus: — 

" The king to Oxford sent his troop of horse, 
For Tories own no argument but force; 
Wiih equal care to Cambridge books he sent, 
For Whigs allow no force but argument." 

Mr. Johnson did him the justice to say, it was one of 
the happiest extemporaneous productions he ever met with; 
though he once comically confessed, that he hated to re- 
peat the Avit of a Whig urged in support of whigism. 

12. Toryism and Garrick. 

Of Mr. Johnson's toryism the world has long been wit- 
ness, and the political pamphlets written by him in defence 
of his party are vigorous and elegaiit.. Says Garrick to him 
one day, " Wliy did not you make me a Tory, when avb 
lived so much together; you love to make people Tories?" 
" Why," says Johnson, pulling a heap of halfpence from 
his pocket, " did not the king make these guineas?" 

13. Burke. — BosivelL 

It was in the year 1775 that Mr. Edmund Burke made 
the famous speech in parliament,* that struck even foes 
with admiration, and friends with delight. Among the 
nameless thousands who are contented to echo those praises 
they have not skill to invent, / ventured, before Dr. John- 
son himself, to applaud, with rapture, the beautiful passage 
in it concerning Lord Bathurst and the angel;t which, said 

* On the 22d of March, 1775, upon moving his resolutions for 
conciliation with America. 

"t [" Mr. Speaker, I cannot prevail on myself to hurry over this 
great consideration. It is good for us to be here. We stand 
where we have an immense view of what is, and what is past. 
Clouds, indeed, and darkness, rest upon the future. Let us, how- 
ever, before we descend from this noble eminence, reflect that this 



20 JOHNSONIANA. 

our Doctor, had I been in the house, I would have an- 
swered thus: — 

" Suppose, Mr. Speaker, that to Wharton, or to Marl- 
borough, or to any of the eminent Whigs of the last age, 
the devil had, not with any great impropriety, consented 
to appear; he would perhaps in somewhat like these words 
have commenced the conversation: 

" ' You seem, my Lord, to be concerned at the judicious 
apprehension, that while you are sapping the foundations 
of royalty at home, and propagating here the dangerous 



growth of our national prosperity has happened within the short 
period of the life of man. It has happened within sixty-eight 
years. There are those alive whose memory might touch ihe two 
extremities. For instance, my Lord Bathurst might remember 
all the stages of the progress. He was in 1704 of an age al least 
to be made to comprehend such things. He was then old enough 
acta parcntum jam legere, et qua: sU potent cognosce re virtus. — Sup- 
pose, sir, that the angel of this auspicious youth, foreseeing the 
many virtues, which made him one of the most amiable, as he is 
one of the most fortunate, men of his age, had opened to him ia 
vision, that, when in the fourth generation, the third prince of the 
House of Brunswick had sal twelve years on the throne of that 
nation, which (by the happy issue of moderate and healing coun- 
cils) was to be made Great Britain, he should see his son, Lord 
Chancellor of England, turn back the current of hereditary dig- 
nity to its fountain, and raise him to a higher rank of peerage, 
whilst he enriched the family with a new one — If, amidst these 
bright and happy scenes of domestic honour and prosperity, that 
angel should have drawn up the curtain, and unfolded the rising 
glories of his country, and whilst he was gazing wiih admiration 
on the then commercial grandeur of England, the genius should 
point out to him a little speck, scarce visible in the mass of the na- 
tional interest, a small seminal principle, rather than a formed body, 
and should tell him — 'Young man, there is America — which at 
this day serves for little more than to amuse you with stories of 
savage men and uncouth manners; yet shall, before you taste of 
death, show itself equal to the whole of that commerce whicli now 
attracts the envy of the world. Whatever England has been grow- 
ing to by a progressive increase of improvement, brought in by 
varieties of people, by succession of civilizing conquests and 
civilizing settlements, in a series of seventeen hundred years, you 
shall see as much added to her by America in the course of a 
single life!'— if this state of his country had been foretold to him, 
would it not require all the sanguine credulity of youth, and all 
the fervid glow of enthusiasm, to make him believe it? Fortunate 
man, he has lived to see it! Fortunate, indeed, if he lives to see 
nothing that shall vary the prospect, and cloud the setting of his 
day'."— Pari. Hist. vol. xviii. p. 487.] 



Piozzi. 27 

doctrine of resistance, the distance of America may secure 
its inhabitants from your arts, though active: but I will 
unfold to you the gay prospects of futurity. This people, 
now so innocent and harmless, shall draw the sword against 
their mother country, and bathe its point in the blood of 
their benefactors: this people, now contented Avith a little, 
shall then refuse to spare what they themselves confess 
they could not miss; and these men, now so honest and 
so grateful, shall, in return for peace and for protection, 
see their vile agents in the house of parliament, there to 
sow the seeds of sedition, and propagate confusion, per- 
plexity, and pain. Be not dispirited, then, at the contem- 
plation of their present happy state: I promise you that 
anarchy, poverty, and death shall, by my care, be carried 
even across the spacious Atlantic, and settle in America 
itself, the sure consequences of our beloved whigism.' " 

This I thought a thing so very particular, that I begged 
his leave to write it down directly, before anything could 
intervene that might make me forget the force of the ex- 
pressions: a trick, which I have however seen played on 
common occasions, of sitting steadily down at the other 
end of the room to write at the moment what should be 
said in company, either by Dr. Johnson or to him, I never 
practised myself, nor approved of in another.* There is 
something so ill-bred, and so inclining to treachery in this 
conduct, that were it commonly adopted, all confidence 
would soon be exiled from society, and a conversation 
assembly-room would become tremendous as a court of 
justice. A set of acquaintance joined in familiar chat may 
say a thousand things, which, as the phrase is, pass well 
enough at the time, though they cannot stand the test of 
critical examination; and as all talk beyond that which is 
necessary to the purposes of actual business is a kind of 
game, there will be ever found waj's of playing fairly or 
unfairly at it, which distinguish the gentleman from the 
juggler. 

14. Anacreon^ s Dove. 

Dr. Johnson, as well as many of my acquaintance, knew 
that I kept a commonplace book; and he one day said to 

* [This is evidently an allusion to Boswell.] 



28 JOHNSONIANA. 

me good-humouredly, that he Avould give me something 
to write in my repository, " I warrant," said he, " there 
is a great deal about me in it: you shall have at least one 
thing worth your pains; so if you will get the pen and 
ink, I will repeat to you Anacreon's Dove directly; but 
tell at the same time, that as I never was struck with any 
thing in the Greek language till I read that, so I never 
read anything in the same language since, that pleased 
me as much. I hope my translation," continued he, "is 
not worse than that of Frank Fawkes." Seeing me dis- 
posed to laugh, " Nay, nay," said he, " Frank Fawkes 
has done them very finely: — 

" Lovely courier of the sky, 
Whence and whilher dost thou fly? 
Scatl'ring, as thy pinions play, 
Liquid fragrance all the way: 
Is it business? is it love? 
Tell me, tell me, gentle Dove." 

" Soft Anacreon's vows I bear, 
Vows to Myrtale the fair; 
Graced with all that charms the heart, 
Blushing nature, smiling ait, 
Venus, courted by an ode, 
On the bard her Dove beslow'd. 
Vested with a master's right 
Now Anacreon rules my flight : 
His the letters that you see. 
Weighty charge consign'd to me: 
Think not yet my service hard, 
Joyless task without reward : 
Smiling at my master's gates, 
Freedom my return awaits; 
But (he liberal grant in vain 
Tempts me to be wild again: 
Can a prudent Dove decline 
Blissful bondage such as mine? 
Over hills and fields to roam. 
Fortune's guest without a home; 
Under leaves to hide one's head 
Slightly shelter'd, coarsely fed; 
Now my better lot bestows 
Sweet repast, and soft repose; 
Now the generous bowl I sip 
As it leaves Anacreon's lip; 
Void of care, and free from dread, 
From his fingers snatch his bread. 
Then with luscious plenty gay, 
Round his chamber dance and play; 



piozzi. 29 

Or from wine as courage springs, 
O'er his face extend my wings ; 
And when feast and frolic tire, 
Drop asleep upon his l)'re. 
Tliis is all, be quick and go, 
More than all thou canst not know; 
Let me now my pinions ply, 
I have chatter'd like a pie." 

When I had finished, " But you must remember to add," 
said Mr. Johnson, " that though these verses were planned, 
and even begun, when I was sixteen years old, I never 
could find time to make an end of them before I was sixty- 
eight." 

15. Johnson'' s Portrait by Himself. 

He told me that the character of Sober, in " The Idler," 
was by himself intended as his own portrait; and that he 
had his own outset into life in his eye, when he wrote the 
eastern story of Gelaleddin. 

16. Giving away Literary Productions. 

Dr. Johnson was liberal enough in granting literary as- 
sistance to others, I think; and innumerable are the pre- 
faces, sermons, lectures, and dedications which he used to 
make for people who begged of him. Mr. Murphy related 
in his and my hearing one day, and he did not deny it, that 
when Murphy joked him the week before for having been 
so diligent of late between Dodd's sermon and Kelly's pro- 
logiie, that Dr. Johnson replied, " Why, sir, when they 
come to me with a dead stay-maker and a dying parson, 
what can a man do?" He said, however, that " he hated 
to give away literary performances, nr even to sell them 
too cheaply: the next generation shall not accuse me," 
added he, " of beating down the price of literature: one 
hates, besides, ever to give that which one has been accus- 
tomed to sell: Avould not you, sir," turning to Mr. Thrale, 
" rather give away money than porter?" 

17. Beading. 

Mr. Johnson had never, by his own account, been a 
close student, and used to advise yoimg people never to be 
without a book in their pocket, to be read at bye-times, 



30 JOHNSONIANA. 

when they had nothing else to do. " It has been by that 
means," said he to a boy at our house one day, " that all 
my knowledge has been gained, except what I have picked 
up by running about the world with my wits ready to ob- 
serve, and my tongue ready to talk. A man is seldom in 
a humour to unlock his bookcase, set his desk in order, 
and betake himself to serious study; but a retentive memory 
will do something, and a fellow shall have strange credit 
given him, if he can but recollect striking passages from 
diflerent books, keep the authors separate in his head, and 
bring his stock of knowledge artfully into play. How 
else," added he, " do the gamesters manage, when they 
play for more money than they are worth?" 

18. The Dictionary. 

His Dictionary, however, could not, one would think, 
have been written by running up and down: but he really 
did not consider it as a great performance; and used to say, 
*' that he might have done it easily in two years, had not 
his health received several shocks during the time." When 
Mr, Thrale, in consequence of this declaration, teased him, 
in the year 1768, to give a new edition of it, "because," 
said he, " there are four or five gross faults;" — " Alas! 
sir," replied Johnson, " there are four or five hundred 
faults, instead of four or five; but you do not consider that 
it would take me up three whole months' labour, and when 
the time was expired the work would not be done." When 
the booksellers set him about it, however, some years after, 
he went cheerfully to the business, said he was well paid, 
and that they deserved to have it done carefully. 

19. The French Academy. 

His reply to the person who complimented him on his 
Dictionary coming out first, mentioning the ill success of 
the French in a similar attempt, is well known; and, I 
trust, has been often recorded: "Why, what would you 
expect, dear sir," said he, " from fellows that eat frogs?"* 

* For his pleasantry about the French Academy, see Boswell, 
vol. i. p. 215.— C. 



Piozzi. 31 



20. Greek. 



I have often thought Dr. Johnson more free than pru- 
dent, in professing so loudly his little skill in the Greek 
language;* for though he considered it as a proof of a nar- 
row mind to be too careful of literary reputation, yet no 
man could be more enraged than he, if an enemy, taking 
advantage of this confession, twitted him with his igno- 
rance; and I remember when the king of Denmark was 
in England, one of his noblemen was brought by Mr. Col- 
man to see Dr. Johnson at our country-house; and having 
heard, he said, that he was not famous for Greek literature, 
attacked him on the weak side; politely adding, that he 
chose that conversation on purpose to favour himself. Our 
Doctor, however, displayed so copious, so compendious a 
knowledge of authors, books, and every branch of learning 
in that language, that the genUeman appeared astonished. 
When he was gone home, says Johnson, "Now, for all 
this triumph, I may thank Thrale's Xenophon here, as I 
think, excepting that one, I have not looked in a Greek 
book these ten years: but see what haste my dear friends 
were all in," continued he, "to tell this poor innocent 
foreigner that I knew nothing of Greek! Oh, no, he 
knows nothing of Greek!" with a loud burst of laughing. 

21. Pope — Dry den — Garrick — Congreve — and Young. 

Of Pope as a writer he had the highest opinion, and 
once when a lady at our house talked of his preface to 
Shakspeare as superior to Pope's, " I fear not, madam," 
said he, "The little fellow has done wonders." His supe- 
rior reverence of Dryden, notwithstanding, still appeared 
in his talk as in his writings; and when some one men- 
tioned the ridicule thrown on him in " The Rehearsal," as 
having hurt his general character as an author, " on the 
contrary," says Mr. Johnson, " the greatness of Dryden's 
reputation is now the only principle of vitality which keeps 
the Duke of Buckingham's play from putrefaction."! 

* [See Boswell, vol. viii. p. 389.] 

t If ihis opinion on the republication of " The Rehearsal" be 
correct, it must— as sometimes happens— have fallen and risen 
again. The truth is, that the greater number of readers at pre- 
sent admire the wit of " The Rehearsal," without ever thinking of 
its being a satire on Dryden. — Fonnereau. 



32 JOHNSONIANA. 

It Avas not very easy, however, for people not quite inti- 
mate with Dr. Johnson, to get exactly his opinion of a 
writer's merit, as he would now and then divert himself 
by confounding those who thought themselves obliged to 
say to-morrow what he had said yesterday; and even 
Garrick, Avho ought to have been better acquainted with 
his tricks, professed himself mortified, that one time when 
he was extolling Dryden in a rapture that I suppose dis- 
gusted his friend, Mr. Johnson suddenly challenged him 
to produce twenty lines in a series, that would not dis- 
grace the poet and his admirer. Garrick produced a pas- 
sage that he had once heard the Doctor commend, in 
which he noiv found, if I remember rightly, sixteen faults, 
and made Garrick look silly at his own table. When I 
told Mr. Johnson the story, " Why, what a monkey was 
David now," says he, " to tell of his own disgrace!" 

In the course of that hour's chat, he told me how he 
used to tease Garrick by commendations of the tomb scene 
in Congreve's Mourning Bride, protesting that Shakspeare 
had, in the same line of excellence, nothing as good: 
"All which is strictly ^rwe," said he; "but that is no rea- 
son for supposing Congreve is to stand in competition 
with Shakspeare: these fellows know not how to blame, 
nor how to commend." 

I forced him one day, in a similar humour, to prefer 
Young's description of night to the so much admired ones 
of Dryden and Shakspeare, as more forcible, and more 
general. Every reader is not either a lover or a tyrant, but 
every reader is interested when he hears that 

" Creation sleeps; 'tis as the general pulse 
Of life stood still, and nature made a pause ; 
An awful pause — prophetic of its end." 

" This," said he, " is true; but remember that, taking the 
compositions of Young in general, they are but like bright 
stepping-stones over a miry road. Young froths, and 
foams, and bubbles sometimes very vigorously; but we must 
not compare the noise made by your tea-kettle here with 
the roaring of the ocean." 

22. Corncille. — Shakspeare. — Steele. 
Somebody was praising Corneille one day in opposition 



piozzi. 33 

to Shakspeare: " Corneille is to Shakspeare," replied 
Mr. Johnson, " as a clipped hedge is to a forest." When 
we talked of Steele's Essays, " They are too thin," says 
our critic, " for an Englishman's taste: mere superficial ob- 
servations on life and manners, without erudition enough 
to make them keep, — like the light French wines, which 
turn sour with standing a while, for want of body, as we 
call it." 

23. Style of Swift. 

A friend was praising the style of Dr. Swift; Mr. 
Johnson did not find himself in the humour to agree with 
him: the critic was driven from one of his performances 
to the other. At length, " You must allow me," said the 
gentleman, "that there are strong facts in the account of 
the 'Four last Years of Queen Anne."' "Yes, surely, 
sir," replies Johnson, " and so there are in the Ordinary 
of Newgate's account." 

24. " New Manner of Writing.''^ 

This was like the story which Mr. Murphy tells, and 
Johnson always acknowledged: how Dr. Rose of Chiswick, 
contending for the preference of Scotch writers over the 
English, after having set up his authors like nine-pins, 
Avhile the Doctor kept bowling them down again; at last, to 
make sure of victory, he named Ferguson upon " Civil 
Society," and praised the book for being written in a new 
manner. " I do not," says Johnson, " perceive the value 
of this new manner; it is only like Buckinger, who had no 
hands, and so wrote with his feet."* 

25. Robertson. — Canting. 

When he related to me a short dialogue that passed be- 
tween himself and a writer of the first eminence in the 
world, when he was in Scotland, I was shocked to think 
how he must have disgusted him. Dr. Robertson asked 
me, said he, why I did not join in their public worship 
when among them? " for,'' said he, " I went to your 
churches often when in England." " So," replied Johnson, 
" I have read that the Siamese sent ambassadors to Louis 

* [See Boswell, vol. vii. p. 19"2.] 



34 JdHNSONIANA. 

Quatorze, but I never heard that the king of France thought 
it worth his while to send ambassadors fronrhis court to 
that of Siam." 

He was no gentler with myself, or those for whom I 
had the greatest regard. When I one day lamented the 
loss of a first cousin killed in America; " Prithee, my 
dear," said he, "have done Avith canting: how would the 
Avorld be worse for it, I may ask, if all your relations were 
at once spitted like larks, and roasted for Presto's supper?" 
Presto was the dog that lay. under the table while we 
talked. 

26. Young Peas. 

When we M'ent into Wales together, and spent some 
time at Sir Eobert Cotton's at Lleweny, one day at dinner 
I meant to please Mr. Johnson particularly with a dish of 
very young peas. "Are not they charming?" said I to 
him, while he was eating them. — " Perhaps," said he, 
" they would be so — to a j^^^." 

27. WartorCs Poems. 

When a well-known author published his poems in the 
year 1777: such a one's verses are come out, said I. 
"Yes," replied Johnson, "and this frost has struck them 
in again. Here are some lines I have written to ridicule 
them: but remember that I love the fellow dearly, now 
— for all I laugh at him: — 

" Wheresoe'er I turn my view, 
All is strange, yet nothing new : 
Endless labour all along, 
Endless labour to be wrong; 
Phrase that time has flung away; 
Uncouth words in disarray, 
Trick'd in antique ruff and bonnet, 
Ode, and elegy, and sonnet."* 

28. Potter''s Euripides. 

When he parodied the verses of another eminent writer,t 

* The metre of these lines was no doubt suggested by Warton's 
"Crusade" and " The Grave of King Arthur," {Works, vol. ii. 
pp. 38, 51;) but they are, otherwise, rather z criticism than a 
parody. — C. 

t Aialoue's MS. notes, communicated by Mr. Markland, state 



Piozzi. 35 

it was done with more provocation, I believe, and with 
some merry maUce. A serious translation of the same 
lines, which I think are from Euripides, may be found in 
" Burney's History of Music." Here are the burlesque 
ones: — 

"Err shall they not, who resolute explore 

Times gloomy backward with judicious eyes; 
And scanning right the practices of yore, 
Shall deem our hoar progenitors unwise. 

" They to the dome where smoke with curling play 
Announced the dinner to the regions round, 
Summon'd the singer blithe, and harper gay. 
And aided wine with dulcet streaming sound. 

" The better use of notes, or sweet or shrill, 
By quiv'ring string, or modulated wind ; 
Trumpet or lyre — to their harsh bosoms chill, 
Admission ne'er had sought, or could not find. 

" Oh! send them to the sullen mansion's dell. 
Her baleful eyes where Sorrow rolls around; 
Where gloom-enamoured Mischief loves to dwell. 
And Murder, all blood-bolter'd, schemes the wound. 

" When cates luxuriant pile the spacious dish, 
And purple nectar glads the festive hour; 
The guests, without a want, without a wish, 
Can yield no room to Music's soothing power. 

29. Legendary Stories. — Bishop Percy. 

Some of the old legendary stories put in verse by 
modern writers,* provoked him to caricature them thus 
one day at Streatham; but they are already well known, I 
am sure. 

" The tender infant, meek and mild, 
Fell down upon the stone ; 
The nurse took up the squealing child, 
But still the child squeal'd on." 

A famous ballad, also, beginning " Rio verde, Rio verde," 

that this was " Robert Potter, the translator of -Eschylus and 
Euripides, who wrote a pamphlet against Johnson, in consequence 
of his criticism on Gray." Potter died, a prebendary of Norwich, 
in 1801, cet. eighty-three.— C. 

* This alludes to Bishop Percy and his " Hermit of Wark- 
worth." — C. 



36 JOHNSONIANA. 

when I commended the translation of it,* he said he could 
do it better himself — as thus: — 

" Glassy water, glassy water, 

Down whose current, clear and strong, 
Chiefs confused in mutual slaughter, 
Moor and Christian, roll along." 

But, sir, said I, this is not ridiculous at all, " Why, 
no," replied he, " why should I always write ridiculously? 
perhaps, because I made these verses to imitate such a 
one, naming him: — 

"Hermit hoar, in solemn cell, 

Wearing out life's evening gray; 
Strike thy bosom, Sage! and tell. 
What is bliss, and which the way! 

" Thus I spoke, and speaking sigh'd, — 
Scarce repress'd the starling tear, — 
When the hoary Sage replied. 
Come, my lad, and drink some beer."+ 

30. Caricatura Imitation. — Fat Oxen, ^c. 

I could give another comical instance of caricatura imi- 
tation. Recollecting some day, when praising these verses 
of Lopez de Vega, 

" Se aquien los leones vence 
Vence una muger hermosa ; 
O el de flaco averguenge, 
O ella de ser mas furiosa," 

more than he thought they deserved, Mr. Johnson instantly 
observed, " that they were founded on a trivial conceit; 
and that conceit ill-explained, and ill-expressed beside. 
The lady, we all know, does not conquer in the same man- 



* No doubt the translation by Bishop Percy: — 

" Gentle river, gentle river, 

Lo, thy streams are stained with gore ; 
Many a brave and noble captain 
Floats along thy willow'd shore." 

Neither of these pretended translations give any idea of the pecu- 
liar simplicity of the original. — C. 
t See Boswell, vol. vi. p. 299. 



piozzi. 37 

ner as the lion does: 'tis a mere play of words," added he, 
" and you might as well say, that 

If the man who turnips cries, 
Cries not when his father dies, 
'Tis a proof that he had rather 
Have a turnip than his father." 

And this humour is of the same sort with which he an- 
swered the friend who commended the following line: — 

Who rules o'er freemen should himself be free. 

" To be sure," said Dr. Johnson, 

"Who drives fat oxen should himself be fat," 

This readiness of finding a parallel, or making one, Avas 
shown by him perpetually in the course of conversation. 
When the French verses of a certain pantomime were 
quoted thus: — 

" Je suis Cassandre descendue des cieux. 
Pour vous faire entendre, mesdames et messieurs, 
Glue je suis Cassandre descendue des cieux ;" 

he cried out gaily and suddenly, almost in a moment, 

"I am Cassandra come down from the sky, 
To tell each bystander what none can deny. 
That I am Cassandra come down from the sky." 

The pretty Italian verses, too, at the end of Baretti's 
book, called " Easy Phraseology," he did alV improvviso, 
in the same manner: — 

" Viva! viva la padrona! 
Tutta bella, e tutta buona, 
La padrona 6 un angiolella 
Tutta buona e tutta bella; 
Tutta bella e tutta buona; 
Viva! viva la padrona!" 

" Long may live my lovely Hetty! 
Always young, and always pretty. 
Always pretty, always young, 
Live my lovely Hetty long! 
Always young and always pretty; 
Long may live my lovely Hetty!" 

The famous distich, too, of an Italian improvvisatore, 
who, when the Duke of Modena ran away from the comet 
in the year 1742 or 1743, 



38 JOHNSONIANA. 

" Se al venir vestro i principi sen' vanno, 
Deh venga ogni di durate un anno; 

" which," said he, " would do just as well in our language 
thus: — 

If at your coming princes disappear, 
Comets! come every day — and stay a year." 

When some one in company commended the verses of 
M. de Benserade « son Lit; 

" Theatre des ris et des pleurs, 
Lit! oti je nais, et oil je meurs, i^ 

Tu nous fais voir comment voisins 
Sont nos plaisirs, et nos chagrins," 

he replied, without hesitating, 

" In bed we laugh, in bed we cry, 
And born in bed, in bed we die ; 
The near approach a bed may show, 
Of human bliss to human woe." 

31. Lord Anson. — Wits. 

The epigram written at Lord Anson's house many years 
ago, " where," says Mr. Johnson, " I was well received 
and kindly treated, and, with the true gratitude of a wit, 
ridiculed the master of the house before I had left it an 
hour," has been falsely printed in many papers since his 
death. I wrote it down from his own lips one evening 
in August, 1772, not neglecting the little preface, accusing 
himself of making so graceless a return for the civilities 
shown him. He had, among other elegancies about the 
park and gardens, been made to observe a temple to the 
winds, when this thought naturally presented itself to a 
wit: — 

" Gratum animum laudo; Clui debuit omnia ventis, 
Cluam bene ventorum surgere templa jubet!" 

32. Dr. Lawrence. 

Poor Dr. Lawrence had long been his friend and con- 
fidant. The conversation I saw them hold together in 
Essex Street one day in the year 1781 or 1782 was a 
melancholy one, and made a singular impression on my 
mind. He was himself exceedingly ill, and I accompanied 
him thither for advice. The physician was, however, in 



piozzi. 39 

some respects, more to be pitied than the patient. Johnson 
was panting under an asthma and dropsy; but Lawrence 
had been brought home that very morning struck with the 
palsy, from which he had, two hours before we came, 
strove to :.waken himself by blisters: they were both deaf, 
and scarce able to speak besides; one from difficulty of 
breathing, the other from paralytic debility. To give and 
receive medical counsel, therefore, they fairly sat down 
on each side a table in the doctor's gloomy apartment, 
adorned with skeletons, preserved monsters, &c., and agreed 
to write Latin billets to each other. Such a scene did I 
never see! " You," said Johnson, " are timide and gelidi;^'' 
finding that his friend had prescribed palliative, not drastic 
remedies. " It is not we," replies poor Lawrence, in an 
interrupted voice; " 'tis nature that is gelide and timide;^'' 
Li fact, he lived but few months after, I believe, and re- 
tained his faculties a still shorter time. He was a man of 
strict piety and profound learning, but little skilled in the 
knowledge of life or manners, and died without having ever 
enjoyed the reputation he so justly deserved. 

33. Arithmetic.^National Debt. 

When Mr. Johnson felt his fancy, or fancied he felt it, 
disordered, his constant recurrence was to the study of 
arithmetic; and one day that he was totally confined to his 
chamber, and I inquired what he had been doing to divert 
himsetf, he showed me a calculation which I could scarce 
be made to understand, so vast was the plan of it, and so 
very intricate were the figures: no other, indeed, than that 
the national debt, computing it at one hundred and eighty 
millions sterling, would, if converted into silver, serve to 
make a meridian of that metal, I forget how broad, for the 
globe of the whole earth, the real globe. 

34. Number and Numeration 

On a similar occasion, I asked him (knowing what sub- 
ject he would like best to talk upon) how his opinion stood 
towards the question between Pascal and Soame Jenyns 
about number and numeration? as the French philosopher 
observes that infinity, though on all sides astonishing, ap- 
pears most so when the idea is connected with the idea 
of number; for the notions of infinite number, and infinite 



40 JOHNSONIANA. 

number we know there is, stretches one's capacity still 
more than the idea of infinite space: " Such a notion, 
indeed," adds he, " can scarcely tind room in the human 
mind." Our English author, on the other hand, exclaims, 
Let no man give himself leave to talk about infinite number, 
for infinite number is a contradiction in terms; whatever is 
once numbered we all see cannot be infinite. " I think," 
said Mr. Johnson, after a pause, "we must settle the 
matter thus: numeration is certainly infinite, for eternity 
might be employed in adding unit to unit; but every num- 
ber is in itself finite, as the possibility of doubling it easily 
proves: besides, stop at what point you will, you find 
yourself as far from infinitude as ever." 

35. Historical Fact. — General Polity. 

As ethics, or figures, or metaphysical reasoning, was 
the sort of talk he most delighted in, so no kind of con- 
versation pleased him less, I think, than when the subject 
was historical fact or general polity. " What shall we 
learn from that stuff?" said he; "let us not fancy, like 
Swift, that we are exalting a woman's character by telling 
how she 

Could name the ancient heroes round, 
Explain for what they were renown'd," &c. 

I must not, however, lead my readers to suppose that he 
meant to reserve such talk for men^s company as a proof 
of pre-eminence. " He never," as he expressed it, " de- 
sired to hear of the Punic war while he lived: such 
conversation was lost time," he said, "and carried one 
away from common life, leaving no ideas behind which 
could serve living wight as warning or direction. 

How I should act is not the case, 
But how would Brutus in my place'? 

And now," cries Mr. Johnson, laughing with obstreperous 
violence, " if these two foolish lines can be equalled in 
folly, except by the two succeeding ones, show them me."* 

* These are two lines of Swift's Verses to Stella, 1720. Dr. 
Johnson's censure was too violent, and indeed he seems not to 
have correctly understood the dean's illustration. He is laying 
down certain general rules for distinguishing what honour is, and 



Piozzi. 41 



36. Catiline and Tom Thumb. 

I asked him once concerning the conversation powers 
of a gentleman* with whom I was myself unacquainted: 
— " He talked to me at club one day," replies our Doctor, 
"concerning Catiline's conspiracy — so I withdrew my 
attention, and thought about Tom Thumb." 

37. Modern Politics. 

Modern politics fared no better. I was one time extoll- 
ing the character of a statesman, and expatiating on the 
skill required to direct the different currents, reconcile the 
jarring interests, &c.: — "Thus," replies he, " a mill is a 
complicated piece of mechanism enough, but the water is 
no part of the workmanship." 



he exposes the many false meanings which the world assigns to 
that word. He proceeds to say, that men should not decide what 
is honourable by a reference to their own feelings and circum- 
stances, which naturally bias the judgment, but should consider, 
without reference to self, how a wise and good man would act. 

" In points of honour to be tried, 
AH passion must be laid aside ; 
Ask no advice, but think alone ; 
Suppose the question not your own; 
' How shall I actl' is not the case ; 
But how would Brulus in my place"? 
In such a case would Cato bleedl 
And how would Socrates proceed]" 

It is plain here, and still plainer from the whole context of the 
poem, that Brulus, Cato, and Socrales are here put as the repre- 
sentatives of Patriotism and Virtue, and as the names of Zoilus, 
Bavius, or Pandarus are used generically to signify infamous 
persons; so here Brulus, Calo, and Socrates (which might as well 
have been Sidney, Somers, or Clarendon, or any other illustrious 
names,) are used as terms of honour, to give point and a kind of 
dramatic effect to the general proposition. Swift never dreamt 
(as Mrs. Piozzi's report would lead us to think that Johnson sup- 
posed) to advise that our rules of conduct were to be drawn from 
the actual events of Greek and Roman history. This would have 
been as absurd as Johnson's own introduction of Roman manners 
into London in his description of the burning of Orgilio's palace, 
or the Invocation of Deinocritus, which sounds so strangely 
amidst the modern illustrations of his own beautiful and splendid 
Vanity of Human Wishes. — C. 
* Mr. Agmondesham Vesey. See Boswell, vol. vii. p. 375. 



42 JOHNSONIANA. 

On another occasion, when some one lamented the 
weakness of a then present minister, and complained that 
he was dull and tardy, and knew little of affairs, — " You 
may as well complain, sir," says Johnson, " that the 
accounts of time are kept by the clock; for he certainly 
does stand still upon the stair-head — and Ave all know that 
he is no great chronologer." 

38. French Invasion. 

In the year 1777, or thereabouts, when all the talk was 
of an invasion, he said most pathetically one afternoon, 
"Alas! alas! how this unmeaning stuff spoils all my 
comfort in my friends' conversation! Will the people 
never have done Avilh it; and shall I never hear a sentence 
again without the French in it? Here is no invasion 
coming, and you know there is none. Let the vexatious 
and frivolous talk alone, or suffer it at least to teach you 
one truth; arid learn by this perpetual echo of even unappre- 
hended distress, how historians magnify events expected, 
or calamities endured; when you know they are at this very 
moment collecting all the big woi'ds they can find, in which 
to describe a consternation never felt, for a misfortune Avhich 
never happened. Among all your lamentations, Avho eats 
the less? Who sleeps the worse for one general's ill suc- 
cess, or another's capitulation? Oh, pray let us hear no 
more of it!" 

39. A good Hater. — Tfliigs and Americans. 

No man was more zealously attached to his party; he 
not only loved a Tory himself, but he loved a man the 
better if he heard he hated a Whig. " Dear Bathurst," 
said he to me one day, " was a man to my very heart's 
content: he hated a fool, and he hated a rogue, and he 
hated a Whig; he was a very good hater." Some one 
mentioned a gentleman of that party for having behaved 
oddly on an occasion where faction Avas not concerned: — 
" Is he not a citizen of London, a native of North America, 
and a Whig?" says Johnson. " Let him be absurd, I beg 
of you: when a monkey is too like a man, it shocks one." 

40. Treatment of the Poor. 
Severity tOAvards the poor Avas, in Dr. Johnson's opinion, 



piozzi. 43 

an undoubted and constant attendant or consequence upon 
Whiffism; and he was not contented with giving them 
reUef, he wished to add also indulgence. He loved the 
poor as I never yet saw any one else do, with an earnest 
desire to make them happy. What signifies, says some 
one, giving halfpence to common beggars? they only lay it 
out in gin or tobacco. " And why should they be denied 
such sweeteners of their existence?" says Johnson; " it is 
surely very savage to refuse them every possible avenue 
to pleasure, reckoned too coarse for our own acceptance. 
Life is a pill which none of us can bear to swallow without 
gilding; yet for the poor we delight in stripping it still 
bai-er, and are not ashamed to show even visible displeasure, 
if ever the bitter taste is taken from their mouths." 

41. Johnson's Pensioners. 

In consequence of these principles he nursed whole 
nests of people in his house, where the lame, the blind, 
the sick, and the sorrowful found a sure retreat from all 
the evils whence his little income could secure them: and, 
commonly spending the middle of the week at our house, 
he kept his numerous family in Fleet Street upon a settled 
allowance; but returned to them every Saturday, to give 
them three good dinners, and his company, before he 
came back to us on the Monday night — treating them Avith 
the same, or perhaps more ceremonious civility, than he 
would have done by as many people of fashion — making 
the Holy Scriptures thus the rule of his conduct, and only 
expecting salvation as he was able to obey its precepts. 

42. Sentimental Miseries.— Distresses of Friends. 

While Dr. Johnson possessed, however, the strongest 
compassion for poverty or illness, he did not even pretend 
to feel for those who lamented the loss of a child, a parent, 
or a friend. " These are the distresses of sentiment," he 
would reply, " Avhich a man who is really to be pitied has 
no leisure to feel. The sight of people who Avant food and 
raiment is so common in great cities, that a surly fellow 
like me has no compassion to spare for wounds given only 
to vanity or softness." No man, therefore, who smarted 
from the ingratitude of his friends found any sympathy 



44 JOHNSONIANA. 

from our philosopher. " Let him do good on higher mo- 
tives next time," would be the answer; "he will then be 
sure of his reward." It is easy to observe, that the justice 
of such sentences made them offensive; but we must be 
careful how we condemn a man for saying what we know 
to be true, only because it is so. 

Few things which pass well enough with others would 
do with him: he had been a great reader of Mandeville, 
and was ever on the watch to spy out those stains of ori- 
ginal corruption, so easily discovered by a penetrating ob- 
server, even in the purest minds. I mentioned an event, 
which if it had happened Avould greatly have injured Mr. 
Thrale and his family — and then, dear sir, said I, how 
sorry you Avould have been! " I /jo/>e," replied he, after a 
long pause, " I should have been very sorry; — but remem- 
ber Rochefoucault's maxim."* I would rather, answered 
I, remember Prior's verses, and ask, 

" What need of books these truths to tell, 
Which folks perceive that cannot spell? 
And must we spectacles apply, 
To see what hurts our naked eye?" — 

Will any body's mind bear this eternal microscope that 
you place upon your own so? " I never," replied he, " saw 
one that tvoidd, except that of my dear Miss Reynolds — and 
hers is very near to purity itself." 

Of slighter evils, and friends less distant than our own 
household, he spoke less cautiously. An acquaintance lost 
the almost certain hope of a good estate that had been long 
expected. Such a one will grieve, said I, at her friend's 
disappointment. " She will suffer as much, perhaps," said 
he, " as your horse did when your coav miscarried." 

I professed myself sincerely grieved when accumulated 
distresses crushed Sir George Colebrook's family; and I 
was so. " Your own prosperity,'' said he, " may possi- 
bly have so far increased the natural tenderness of your 
heart, that for aught I know you may be a little sorry; 
but it is sufficient for a plain man if he does not laugh when 
he sees a fine new house tumble down all on a sudden, and 



* " In the misfortunes of our best friends we always find some- 
thing to please us." 



piozzi. 45 

a snug cottage stand by ready to receive the owner, whose 
birth entitled him to nothing better, and whose limbs are 
left him to go to work again with." 

43. Hyperbole. 

I used to tell him in jest, that his morality was easily 
contented; and when I have said something as if the wick- 
edness of the world gave me concern, he would cry out 
aloud against canting, and protest that he thought that there 
was very little gross wickedness in the Avorld, and still less 
of extraordinary virtue. Nothing indeed more surely dis- 
gusted Dr. Johnson than hyperbole: he loved not to be told 
of sallies of excellence, which he said were seldom valu- 
able, and seldom true. " Heroic virtues," said he, " are 
the bons mots of life; they do not appear often, and when 
they do appear are too much prized, I think; like the aloe- 
tree, which shoots and flowers once in a hundred years." 

44. Life made up of little Things. 

Life is made up of little things; and that character is the 
best which does little but repeated acts of beneficence; as 
that conversation is the best which consists in elegant and 
pleasing thoughts, expressed in natural and pleasing terms. 
" With regard to my own notions of moral virtue," con- 
tinued he, " I hope I have not lost my sensibility of wrong; 
but I hope likewise that I have lived long enough in the 
world to prevent me from expecting to find any action of 
which both the original motive and all the parts were 
good." 

45. Johnson'' s Piety and Spirit of Devotion. 

The piety of Dr. Johnson was exemplary and edifying. 
He was punctiliously exact to perform every public duty 
enjoined by the church, and his spirit of devotion had an 
energy that affected all who ever saw him pray in private. 
The coldest and most languid hearers of the word must 
have felt themselves animated by his manner of reading 
the Holy Scriptures; and to pray by his sick bed required 
strength of body as well as of mind, so vehement were 
his manners. I have many times made it my request to 
Heaven that I might be spared the sight of his death; and 
I was spared it! 



46 JOHNSONIANA. 

46. Voluntary Penance. 

Mr. Johnson, though in general a gross feeder, kept 
fast in Lent, particularly the holy week, with a rigour 
very dangerous to his general health; but though he had 
left ofl' wine, (for religious motives, as I always believed, 
though he did not own it,) yet he did not hold the commu- 
tation of offences by voluntary penance, or encourage 
others to practise severity upon themselves. He even 
once said, " that he thought it an error to endeavour at 
pleasing God by taking the rod of reproof out of his 
hands." 

47. Convents. — The Benedictines. 

When we talked of convents, and the hardships suf- 
fered in them — "Remember always," said he, "that a 
convent is an idle place, and where there is nothing to be 
done something must be endured: mustard has a bad taste 
per se, you may observe, but very insipid food cannot be 
eaten without it." His respect, however, for places of 
religious retirement Avas carried to the greatest degree of 
veneration. The Benedictine convent at Paris* paid him 
all possible honours in return, and the Priori and he parted 
with tears of tenderness. Two of that coUegeJ being sent 

* We learn from the Abbe Mann's Account of the Benedictine 
Monks in Paris, that this priory was first founded at St. Malo, in 
IGll, by Gitfard, Archbishop of Rheims. The French king not 
permitting this liouse to continue at St. Malo, on account of its 
proximity to England, Archbishop Giflard procured another at 
Paris, which, in iG42, was changed for one in the Rue St. Jacques, 
where the monks remained till 1793, when they were involved iu 
the common destruction of the French Revolution. During their 
existence in Paris, these monks enjoyed all the privileges of the 
university, with regard to studies, degrees, and benefices annexed 
to the degrees; and it was by means of these last, that the house 
enjoyed considerable revenues. — Markla.\d. 

+ This individual was the Rev. Mr. Cowley. He was at this 
time about 40 years of age, and he is described to me by a still 
surviving contemporary (the Rev. A. Ryding, now residing at 
Ampleforth, near York), as a man of good sense, taste, and judg- 
ment. — Markland. 

t The Rev. James Compton (see Boswell, vol. viii. p. 201) and 
the Rev. Joseph Wilks. Mr. Wilk« was born at Coughton Court, 
Warwickshire, and educated at St. Edmund's, a Benedictine mo- 
nastery in Paris. He was sometime chaplain to Mr. Basil Fitz- 



piozzi. 47 

to England on a mission some years after, speii,t much of 
their time with him at Bolt Court I know, and he Avas 
ever earnest to retain their friendship; but, though beloved 
by all his Roman Catholic acquaintance, particularly Dr. 
Nugent, for whose esteem he had a singular value, yet was 
Mr. Johnson a most unshaken church-of-England man. 

48. Lifidels. — Hume. — Raynal. 

The settled aversion Dr. Johnson felt towards an infidel 
he expressed to all ranks, and at all times, without the 
smallest reserve; for though on common occasions he paid 
great deference to birth or title, yet his regard for truth 
and virtue never gave way to meaner considerations. We 



herbert, of Swinnerton in Staffordshire, and afterwards the chief 
priest of Bath. In 178S he was added to the English Catholic 
committee, appointed to "watch over and promote their public 
interests," then consisting of thirteen persons; but having incurred 
the displeasure of his Bishop, Dr. Walmsley (most probably with 
reference to the proceedings of this committee — see Butler's His- 
torical Mcvioirs of the Catholics, vol. iv.), he quitted England, and 
after visiting various parts of the Continent, died at Douay in 
1829, about the age of 82. Whilst in England, he was well re- 
ceived at Oxford; and it is said that he gave some assistance to 
Dr. Kennicot, when preparing his Hebrew Bible, in which lan- 
guage Wilks was a proficient. Mr. Ryding, who knew him inti- 
mately, describes Wilks as a humble and devout man, possessing 
very superior talents. At Johnson's suggestion he wrote the Life 
of Socrates, which the former promised to revise, particularly 
with a view to expunge any Gallicisms which might have crept 
into the work. It is believed that it was finished, but never pub- 
lished. Johnson selected Wilks as his companion, when visiting 
the public libraries, &c. in Paris. At the King's library John- 
son's singular appearance, and his full-mouthed pronunciation of 
Latin, exposed him to some ridicule from a French Abbe. Ac- 
cording to Mr. Ryding, Johnson declared to the Prior, that, so 
much was he pleased with his reception by the Benedictines, that, 
could he procure an increase to his pension, he would return 
to France, with the intention of ending his days as an inmate of 
the monastery. To every one conversant with the opinions 
which Johnson openly expressed as to certain important tenets of 
Popery, as well as with his arguments against monastic and soli- 
tary life, not only will many weighty objections occur, as to the 
probability of such intention having been seriously entertained, 
but it must also be evident, that to a man retiring from the world 
an increase of pension would be useless, and that a life of literary 
ease would have proved a slender compensation to Johnson for 
the loss of Bolt Court and the Literary Club. — Markland. 



48 JOHNSONIANA. 

talked of a dead wit one evening, and somebody praised 
him: — " Let us never praise talents so ill employed, sir; 
we foul our mouths by commending such infidels," said 
he. Allow him the lumieres at least, entreated one of the 
company. — "I do allow him, sir," replied Johnson, "just 
enough to light him to hell." 

Of a Jamaica gentleman, then lately dead — " He will 
not, whither he is now gone," said Johnson, "find much 
difference, I believe, either in the climate or the company," 

The Abbe Raynal probably remembers that, being at 
the house of a common friend in London, the master of it 
approached Johnson with that gentleman so much cele- 
brated in his hand, and this speech in his mouth: " Will you 
permit me, sir, to present to you the Abbe Raynal?" " No, 
sir,^' replied the Doctor, very loud; and suddenly turned 
away from them both. 

49. Dancing Master. — Palmyra. 

He would sometimes good-naturedly enter into a long 
chat for the instruction or entertainment of people he de- 
spised. I perfectly recollect his condescending to delight 
my daughter's dancing master with a long argument about 
his art; which the man protested, at the close of the dis- 
course, the Doctor knew more of than himself; who re- 
mained astonished, enlightened, and amused by the talk 
of a person little likely to make a good disquisition upon 
dancing. 

I have sometimes indeed been rather pleased than vexed 
when Mr. Johnson has given a rough answer to a man who 
perhaps deserved one only half as rough, because I knew 
he would repent of his hasty reproof, and make us all 
amends by some conversation at once instructive and enter- 
taining, as in the following cases: A young fellow asked him 
abruptly one day, "Pray, sir, what and where is Palmyra? 
I heard somebody talk last night of the ruins of Palmyra." 
" 'Tis a hill in Ireland," replies Johnson, "with palms 
growing on the top, and a bog at the bottom, and so they 
call it Palm-mira.'''' Seeing, however, that the lad thought 
him serious, and thanked him for the information, he un- 
deceived him very gently indeed; told him the history, 
geography, and chronology of Tadmor in the wilderness, 
with every incident that literature could furnish, I think, or 



Piozzi. 49 

eloquence express, from the building of Solomon's palace 
to the voyage of Dawkins and Wood. 

50. Marriage, 

When he was musing over the fire in our drawing-room 
at Streatham, a young gentleman called to him suddenly, 
and I suppose he thought disrespectfully, in these words: 
" Mr. Johnson, would you advise me to marry?" " I 
would advise no man to marry, sir," returns for answer in 
a very angry tone Dr. Johnson, " who is not likely to 
propagate understanding;" and so left the room. Our 
companion looked confounded, and I believe had scarce 
recovered the consciousness of his own existence, when 
Johnson came back, and drawing his chair among us, with 
altered looks and a softened voice, joined in the general chat, 
insensibly led the conversation to the subject of marriage, 
where he laid himself out in a dissertation so useful, so 
elegant, so founded on the true knowledge of human life, and 
so adorned with beauty of sentiment, that no one ever re- 
collected the off'ence, except to rejoice in its consequences. 
He repented just as certainly, however, if he had been led 
to praise any person or thing by accident more than he 
thought it deserved, and was on svich occasions comically 
earnest to destroy the praise or pleasure he had uninten- 
tionally given. 

5 1 . Paintings .^Reynolds. 

Sir Joshua Reynolds mentioned some picture as excel- 
lent. " It has often grieved me, sir," said Mr, Johnson, 
" to see so much mind as the science of painting requires, 
laid out upon such perishable materials: why do not you 
oftener make use of copper? I could wish your superiority 
in the art you profess to be preserved in stuff more durable 
than canvass." Sir Joshua urged the difficulty of procur- 
ing a plate large enough for historical subjects, and was 
going to raise further objections: — " What foppish obstacles 
are these!" exclaims, on a sudden, Dr. Johnson: "here is 
Thrale, who has a thousand ton of copper; you may paint 
it all round if you will, I suppose; it will serve him to brew 
in afterwards: will it not, sir?" to my husband, who sat by. 

Indeed, Dr. Johnson's utter scorn of painting was such, 
that I have heard him say, that he should sit very quietly 
4 



50 JOHNSONIANA. 

in a room hung round with the works of the greatest mas- 
ters, and never feel the slightest disposition to turn them if 
their backs were outermost, unless it might be for the sake 
of telling Sir Joshua that he had turned them. Such 
speeches may appear offensive to many, but those who 
knew he was too blind to discern the perfections of an art 
which applies itself immediately to our eyesight, must ac- 
knowledge he was not in the wrong. 

52. Prospects. 

He delighted no more in music than painting; he was 
almost as deaf as he was blind: travelling with Dr. John- 
son Avas for these reasons tiresome enough. Mr. Thrale 
loved prospects, and was mortified that his friend could not 
enjoy the sight of those different dispositions of wood and 
water, hill and valley, that travelling through England and 
France affords a man. But when he wished to point them 
out to his companion: — " Never heed such nonsense," 
would be the reply: " a blade of grass is always a blade of 
grass, whether in one country or another: let us, if we do 
talk, talk about something; men and women are my sub- 
jects of inquiry; let us see how these differ from those we 
have left behind." 

53. Porridge Island. 

I was saying to a friend one day, that I did not like 
goose; one smells it so while it is roasting, said I: — " But 
you, madam," replies the Doctor, " have been at all times 
a fortunate woman, having always had your hunger so 
forestalled by indulgence, that you never experienced the 
delight of smelling your dinner beforehand." Which 
pleasure, answered I pertly, is to be enjoyed in perfection 
by such as have the happiness to pass through Porridge 
Island* of a morning. " Come, come," says he gravely, 
" let's have no sneering at what is serious to so many: 
hundreds of your fellow-creatures, dear lady, turn another 

* Porridge Island is a mean street in London filled with cook- 
shops for the convenience of the poorer inhabitants; the real name 
of it I know not, but suspect that which it is generally known by- 
te have been originally a term of derision. — Piozzt. It is not a 
street but a paved alley near the church of St. Martin's in the 
fields. — Malone, 



piozzi. 51 

way, that they may not be tempted by the luxuries of Por- 
ridge Ishiud to Avish for gratilications they are not able to 
obtain: you are certainly not better than all of them; give 
God thanks that you are happier." 

54. Foppish Lamentations. 

I received on another occasion as just a rebuke from Mr. 
Johnson, for an offence of the same nature, and hope I took 
care never to provoke a third; for, after a very long sum- 
mer particularly hot and dry, I was wishing naturally, but 
thoughtlessly, for some rain to lay the dust, as we drove 
along the Surrey roads. " I cannot bear," replied he, 
with much asperity and an altered look, " when I know 
how many poor families will perish next winter for want 
of that bread which the present drought will deny them, to 
hear ladies sighing for rain, only that their complexions 
may not suffer from the heat, or their clothes be incom- 
moded by the dust; — for shame! leave off such foppish la- 
mentations, and study to relieve those whose distresses 
are real." 

55. Johnson's Charity. 

With advising others to be charitable, however. Dr. 
Johnson did not content himself. He gave away all he 
had, and all he ever had gotten, except the two thousand 
pounds he left behind; and the very small portion of his 
income which he spent on himself, with all our calculation, 
we never could make more than seventy, or, at most, four- 
score pounds a year, and he pretended to allow himself a 
hundred. He had numberless dependents out of doors as 
well as in, " who," as he expressed it, " did not like to see 
him latterly unless he brought 'em money." For those 
people he used frequently to raise contributions on his 
richer friends; " and this," says he, " is one of the thou- 
sand reasons which ought to restrain a man from drony 
solitude and useless retirement." 

56. Solitude. 

" Solitude," added he one day, " is dangerous to reason, 
without being favourable to virtue: pleasures of some sort 
are necessary to the intellectual as to the corporeal health; 
and those who resist gaiety, will be likely, for the most 



52 JOHNSONIANA. 

part, to fall a sacrifice to appetite; for the solicitations of 
sense are always at hand, and a dram to a vacant and soli- 
tary person is a speedy and seducing relief. 

" Remember," continued he, " that the solitary mortal 
is certainly luxurious, probably superstitious, and possibly 
mad: the mind stagnates for want of employment, grows 
morbid, and is extinguished like a candle in foul air." 

It was on this principle that Johnson encouraged parents 
to carry their daughters early and much into company: 
" for what harm can be done before so many witnesses? 
Solitude is the surest nurse of all prurient passions; and a 
girl in the hurry of preparation, or tumult of gaiety, has 
neither inclination nor leisure to let tender expressions 
soften or sink into her heart. The ball, the show, are not 
the dangerous places: no, 'tis the private friend, the kind 
consoler, the companion of the easy vacant hour, whose 
compliance with her opinions can flatter her vanity, and 
whose conversation can just soothe, without ever stretching 
her mind, that is the lover to be feared: he who buzzes in 
her ear at court, or at the opera, must be contented to buzz 
in vain." 

These notions Dr. Johnson carried so very far, that I 
have heard him say, " If you would shut up any man with 
any woman, so as to make them derive their whole pleasure 
from each other, they would inevitably fall in love, as it is 
called, with each other; but at six months' end, if you would 
throw them both into public life where they might change 
partners at pleasure, each would soon forget that fondness 
which mutual dependence, and the paucity of general amuse- 
ment alone, had caused, and each would separately feel 
delighted by their release." 

57. Useless Singularity. — Cards. — Dress. — Dancing. 

Mr. Johnson was indeed unjustly supposed to be a lover 
of singularity. Few people had a more settled reverence 
for the world than he, or was less captivated by new modes 
of behaviour introduced, or innovations on the long-received 
customs of common life. He hated the way of leaving 
a company without giving notice to the lady of the house 
that he was going; and did not much like any of the con- 
trivances by which ease has been lately introduced into 



Piozzi. 53 

society instead of ceremony, which had more of his appro- 
bation. 

Cards, dress, and dancing all found their advocates in 
Dr. Johnson, who inculcated, upon principle, the cultivation 
of those arts, which many a moralist thinks himself bound 
to reject, and many a Christian holds unfit to be practised. 

" No person," said he one day, " goes under-dressed 
till he thinks himself of consequence enough to forbear 
carrying the badge of his rank upon his back." And in 
answer to the arguments urged by Puritans, Quakers, (fee, 
against showy decorations of the human figure, I once 
heard him exclaim, " Oh, let us not be found, when our 
Master calls us, ripping the lace off our waistcoats, but the 
spirit of contention from our souls and tongues ! Let us 
all conform in outward customs, which are of no conse- 
quence, to the manners of those whom we live among, and 
despise such paltry distinctions. Alas, sir," continued he, 
" a man who cannot get to heaven in a green coat, will not 
find his way thither the sooner in a gray one." 

On an occasion of less consequence, when he turned his 
back on Lord Bolingbroke in the rooms at Brighthelmstone, 
he made this excuse: — " I am not obliged, sir," said he to 
Mr. Thrale, who stood fretting, " to find reasons for re- 
specting the rank of him who will not condescend to declare 
it by his dress, or some other visible mark: what are stars 
and other signs of superiority made for?" 

58. General Satire. — Physic. — Law. 

Though no man, perhaps, made such rough replies as 
Dr. Johnson, yet nobody had a more just aversion to gen- 
eral satire. He always hated and censured Swift for his 
unprovoked bitterness against the professors of medicine; 
and used to challenge his friends, when they lamented the 
exorbitancy of physicians' fees, to produce him one instance 
of an estate raised by physic in England. When an ac- 
quaintance, too, was one day exclaiming against the tedi- 
ousness of the law and its partiality — " Let us hear, sir," 
said Johnson, " no general abuse; the law is the last result 
of human wisdom acting upon human experience for the 
benefit of the public." 



54 JOHNSONIANA. 

59. Unnecessary Scruples. 

As the mind of Dr. Johnson was greatly expanded, so 
his first care was for general, not particular or petty 
morality; and those teacliers had more of his blame than 
praise, I think, who seek to oppress life with unnecessary 
scruples: " Scruples would," as he observed, " certainly 
make men miserable, and seldom make them good. Let 
us ever," he said, " studiously fly from those instructors 
against whom our Saviour denounces heavy judgments, 
for having bound up burdens grevious to be borne, and 
laid them on the shoulders of mortal men." 

No one had, however, higher notions of the hard task 
of true Christianity than Johnson, whose daily terror lest 
he had not done enough originated in piety, but ended in 
little less than disease. Reasonable with regard to others, 
he had formed vain hopes of performing impossibilities 
himself; and finding his good Avorks ever below his desires 
and intent, filled his imagination with fears that he should 
never obtain forgiveness for omissions of duty and criminal 
waste of time. 

60. Jesting. 

Mr. Johnson liked a frolic or a jest well enough; though 
he had strange serious niles about it too; and very angry 
was he if anybody offered to be merry when he was dis- 
posed to be grave. " You have an ill-founded notion," 
said he, " that it is clever to turn matters off" with a joke, 
as the phrase is; whereas, nothing produces enmity so cer- 
tain, as one person's showing a disposition to be merry, 
when another is inclined to be either serious or displeased." 

61. Distressed Authors. 

No man told a story with so good a grace, or knew so 
well what would make an effect upon his auditors. When 
he raised contributions for some distressed author, or wit 
in want, he often made us -all more than amends by divert- 
ing descriptions of the lives they were then passing in 
corners, unseen by anybody but himself and that odd old 
surgeon, Robert Levett, whom he kept in his house to tend 
the out-pensioners, and of whom he said most truly and 
sublimely, that 



Piozzi. 55 

" In misery's darkest caverns known, 
His ready help was ever nigh, 
Where hopeless anguish pour'd his groan, 
And lonely want retired to die." 

I have forgotten the year, but it could scarely, I think, 
be later than 1765 or 1766, that he was called abruptly 
from our house after dinner, and returning in about three 
hours, said, he had been with an enraged author, whose 
landlady pressed him for payment within doors, while the 
bailiffs beset him without; that he was drinking himself 
drunk with Madeira to drown care, and fretting over a 
novel which when finished was to be his whole fortune; 
but he could not get it done for distraction, nor could he 
step out of doors to otfer it to sale. Mr. Johnson there- 
fore set away the bottle, and went to the bookseller, I'ecom- 
mending the performance, and desiring some immediate 
relief; which when he brought back to the writer, he called 
the woman of the house directly to partake of punch, and 
to pass their time in merriment.* 

There was a Mr. Boyse, too, who wrote some very ele- 
gant verses printed in the Magazines of five-and-twenty 
years ago, of whose ingenuity and distress I have heard 
Dr. Johnson tell some curious anecdotes; particularly, that 
when he was almost perishing with hunger, and some 
money was produced to purchase him a dinner, he got a 
bit of roast beef, but could not eat it without catchup, and 
laid out the last half-guinea he possessed in truffles and 
mushrooms, eating them in bed, too, for want of clothes, 
or even a shirt to sit up in. 

Another man, for whom he often begged, made as wild 
use of his friend's beneficence as these, spending in punch 
the solitary guinea which had been brought him one morn- 
ing; when resolving to add another claimant to a share of 
the bowl, besides a woman who always lived with him, 
and a footman who used to carry out petitions for charity, 
he borrowed a chairman's watch, and pawning it for half a 
crown, paid a clergyman to marry him to a fellow-lodger 
in the wretched house they all inhabited, and got so drunk 
over the guinea bowl of punch the evening of his wedding 
day, that having many years lost the use of one leg, he 

* [See Boswell, vol. ii. p. 193.] 



56 JOHNSONIANA. 

now contrived to fall from the top of the stairs to the bot- 
tom, and break his arm; in which condition his com- 
panions left him to call Mr. Johnson, who relating the 
series of his tragi-comical distresses, obtained from the Lite- 
rary Club a seasonable relief. 

62. The Literary Club. 

Of that respectable society I have heard him speak in the 
highest terms, and with a magnificent panegyric on each 
member, when it consisted only of a dozen or fourteen 
friends; but as soon as the necessity of enlarging it brought 
in new faces, and took off from his confidence in the com- 
pany, he grew less fond of the meeting, and loudly pro- 
claimed his carelessness icho might be admitted, when it 
was become a mere dinner club. 

63. Johnson's Incredulity. 

Mr. Johnson's incredulity amounted almost to disease, 
and I have seen it mortify his companions exceedingly. 
Two gentlemen, I perfectly well remember, dining with 
us at Streatham in the summer 1782, when Elliot's brave 
defence of Gibraltar was a subject of common discourse, 
one of these men naturally enough began some talk about 
red-hot balls thrown Avith surprising dexterity and effect: 
which Dr. Johnson having listened some time to—" I 
would advise you, sir," said he with a cold sneer, "never 
to relate this story again: you really can scarce imagine 
how very poor a figure you make in the telling of it." Our 
guest being bred a Quaker, and I believe a man of an ex- 
tremely gentle disposition, needed no more reproofs for the 
same folly; so if he ever did speak again, it was in a low 
voice to the friend who came with him. The check was 
given before dinner, and after coffee I left the room. When 
in the evening, however, our companions were returned to 
London, and Mr. Johnson and myself were left alone, with 
only our usual family about us — " I did not quarrel with 
those Quaker fellows," said he, very seriously. " You 
did perfectly right," replied I; "for they gave you no 
cause of offence." " No offence!" returned he with an 
altered voice; " and is it nothing then to sit whispering 
together when / am present, without ever directing their 
discourse towards me, or offering me a share in tlie conver- 



Piozzi. 57 

sation?" " That was because you frighted him who spoke 
first about those hot balls." " Why, madam, if a creature 
is neither capable of giving dignity to falsehood, nor wil- 
ling to I'emain contented with the truth, he deserves no 
better treatment."* 

Mr. Johnson's fixed incredulityt of everything he heard, 
and his little care to conceal that incredulity, was teasing 
enough to be sure: and I saw Mr. Sharp was pained ex- 
ceedingly, when relating the history of a hurricane that 
happened about that time in the West Indies, where, for 
aught I know, he had himself lost some friends too, he 
observed Dr. Johnson believed not a syllable of the ac- 
count: — "For 'tis so easy," says he, " for a man to fill 
his mouth with a wonder, and run about telling the lie 
before it can be detected, that I have no heart to believe 
hurricanes easily raised by the first inventor, and blown 
forwards by thousands more." I asked him once if he 
believed the story of the destruction of Lisbon by an earth- 
quake when it first happened: — " Oh! not for six months," 
said he, " at least: I did think that story too dreadful to be 
credited, and can hardly yet persuade myself that it was 
true to the full extent we all of us have heard." 



* [Mr. Makme, in his MS. note.s, is very indignant that Mrs. 
Piozzi has omitted to state what the story was which produced 
this observation, and because she has not done so questions the 
veracity of the whole anecdote; but this is very unjust. Mrs. 
Piozzi's object was to exhibit Johnso?i's manners, and not to record 
the minute details of the Cluaker's story. — C] 

t [Mr. Malone, in his MS. notes, observes on this passage, 
" Here is another gross misrepresentation. He had no fixed in- 
credulity concernino: everything he heard; but he had observed the 
great laxity with which almost every story is told, and therefore al- 
ways examined it accurately , and frequently found some gross exag- 
geration. The writer herself had not the smallest regard for truth, 
as JohnsoJi told Mr. Bosivell (see his Life of Johnson), and hence this 
scrutinizing habit of her guest was to her a very sore subject." On 
this I must take leave to say that Mr. Malone's observation defeats 
itself: because if Dr. Johnson's incredulity was a sore subject with 
Mrs. Piozzi, slie cannot be blamed for recording it. Mi'. Malone 
might have questioned her judgment, in supposing that Johnson 
was equally incredulous as to other persons, but not her sincerity, 
in describuig him as she found him; and if he found almost every 
story told with great laxity, is it surprising that he should have au 
habitual incredulityl— C] 



58 JOHNSONIANA. 

64. Contradiction. — Biirney. — Fepys. — Skating. 

Among the numberless people, however, whom I heard 
him flatly contradict, I never yet saw any one who did 
not take it patiently excepting Dr. Burney, from whose 
habitual softness of manners I little expected such an ex- 
ertion of spirit: the event was as little to be expected. 
Mr. Johnson asked his pardon generously and genteelly, 
and when he left tlie room rose up to shake hands with 
him, that they might part in peace. 

On another occasion, when he had violently provoked 
Mr. Pepys,* in a difierent ])ut perhaps not a less offensive 
manner, till something much too like a quarrel was grown 
up between them, the moment he was gone, " Now," 
says Dr. Johnson, " is Pepys gone home hating me, who 
love him better than I did before: he spoke in defence of 
his dead friend; but though I hope / spoke better who spoke 
against him, yet all my eloquence Avill gain me nothing but 
an honest man for my enemy!" He did not, however, 
cordially love Mr. Pepys, though he respected his abilities. 
" I knew the dog was a scholar," said he, when they had 
been disputing about the classics for three hours together 
one morning at Streatham; " but that he had so much 
taste and so much knowledge I did not believe. I might 
have taken Barnard's word, though, for Barnard would not 
lie." 

We had got a little French print among us at Bright- 
helmstone, in November, 1782, of some people skating, 
with these lines written under: — 

"Sur un mince crystal I'hiver conduit leurs pas, 
Le precipice est sous la glace; 
Telle est tie nos plaisirs la jegere surface, 
Glissez, mortels ; n'appuyez pas." 

And I begged translations from everybody. Dr. Johnson 
gave me this: — 

" O'er ice the rapid skater flies, 

With sport above and death below; 
Where mischief lurks in gay disguise, 
Thus lightly touch and quickly go." 

* [See Boswell, vol. viii. p. 57, and post, No. 613.] 



piozzi. 59 

He was, however, most exceedingly enraged when he 
knew that in the course of the season I had asked half a 
dozen acquaintance to do the same thing, and said, it was 
a piece of treachery, and done to make everybody else 
look little when compared to my favourite friends the 
Pepyses, whose translations were unquestionably the best. 
I will insert them, because he did say so. This is the 
distich given me by Sir Lucas, to whom I owe more solid 
obligations, no less than the power of thanking him for the 
life he saved, and whose least valuable praise is the cor- 
rectness of his taste:^ 

"O'er the ice as o'er pleasure yon lightly should glide; 
Boih have gulphs which their flattering surfaces hide." 

This other more serious one was written by his brother: — 

"Swift o'er the level how the skaters slide, 
And skim the glitt'ring surface as they go: 
Thus o'er life's specious pleasures lightly glide, 
But pause not, press not on the gulph below." 

Dr. Johnson seeing this last, and thinking a moment, re- 
peated, — 

" O'er crackling ice, o'er gulphs profound, 
With nimble glide the skaters play; 
O'er treacherous pleasure's flow'ry ground 
Thus lightly skim, and haste away." 

65. Severity. — Dogs and Wives. — Mrs. Johnson. 

When I once mentioned Shenstone's idea, that some 
little quarrel among lovers, relations, and friends was useful, 
and contributed to their general happiness upon the whole, 
by making the soul feel her elastic force and I'eturn to the 
beloved object with renewed delight; — " Why, what a 
pernicious maxim is this now," cries Johnson: " all quar- 
rels ought to be avoided studiously, particularly conjugal 
ones, as no one can possibly tell where they may end; 
besides that lasting dislike is often the consequence of oc- 
casional disgust, and that the cup of life is surely bitter 
enough, without squeezing in the hateful rind of resent- 
ment." 

It was upon something like the same principle, and from 
his general hatred of refinement, that when I told him how 
Dr. Collier, in order to keep the servants in humour with 



60 JOHNSONIANA. 

his favourite dog, by seeming rough with the animal him- 
self on many occasions, and crying out, " Why will nobody 
knock this cur's brains out?" meant to conciliate their ten- 
derness towards Pompey; he returned me for answer, " that 
the maxim was evidently false, and founded on ignorance 
of human life: that the servants would kick the dog the 
sooner for having obtained such a sanction to their severity: 
and I once," added he, " chid my wife for beating the cat 
before the maid, ' who will now,' said I, ' treat puss Avith 
cruelty, perhaps, and plead her mistress's example.' " 

I asked him upon this, if he ever disputed with his wife? 
(I had heard that he loved her passionately.) " Perpe- 
tually," said he: "my Avife had a particular reverence for 
cleanliness, and desired the praise of neatness in her dress 
and furniture, as many ladies do, till they become trouble- 
some to their best friends, slaves to their own bosoms, and 
only sigh for the hour of sweeping their husbands out of 
the house as dirt and useless lumber: ' A clean floor is so 
comfortable,' she would say sometimes, by way of twitting; 
till at last I told her, that I thought we had had talk enough 
about \heJioor, we Avouldnow have a touch at the ceiVin^." 

I have heard him blame her for a fault many people 
have, of setting the miseries of their neighbours half unin- 
tentionally, half wantonly before their eyes, showing them 
the bad side of their profession, situation, &c. He said, 
" she would lament the dependence of pupilage to a young 
heir, &;c.; and once told a waterman Avho rowed her along 
the Thames in a wherry, that he was no happier than a 
galley slave, one being chained to the oar by authority, the 
other by want. I had, however," said he, laughing, " the 
wit to get her daughter on my side always before we began 
the dispute. She read comedy better than anybody he 
ever heard," he said; " in tragedy she mouthed too much." 

66. Husband and Wife. — Boarding Schools. 

When any disputes arose between our married acquaint- 
ance, Mr. Johnson always sided with the husband, " whom" 
he said, " the woman had probably provoked so often, 
she scarce knew when or how she had disobliged him 
first." " Women," says Dr. Johnson, " give great oflfence 
by a contemptuous spirit of noncompliance on petty occa- 
sions. The man who calls his wife to walk Avith him in 



piozzi. 61 

the shade, and she feels a stranffe desire just at that moment 
to sit in the sun: he offers to read her a play, or sing her a 
song, and she calls the children in to disturb them, or ad- 
vises him to seize that opportunity of settling the family 
accounts. Twenty such tricks will the faithfulest wife in 
the world not refuse to play, and then look astonished when 
the fellow fetches in a mistress." 

" Boarding-schools were established," contiimed he, 
" for the conjugal quiet of the parents: the two partners 
cannot agree which child to fondle, nor how to fondle them, 
so they put the young ones to school, and remove the 
cause of contention. The little girl pokes her head, the 
mother reproves her sharply: ' Do not mind your mamma,' 
says the father, 'my dear, but do your own way.' The 
mother complains to me of this: ' Madam,' said I, ' your 
husband is right all the while: he is with you but two hours 
of the day perhaps, and then you tease him by making the 
child cry. Are not ten hours enough for tuition? And are 
the hours of pleasure so frequent in life, that Avhen a man 
gets a couple of quiet ones to spend in familiar chat with 
his wife, they must be poisoned by petty mortifications? 
Put missey to school; she will learn to hold her head like 
her neighbours, and you will no longer torment your family 
for want of other talk.' " 

67. Vacuity of Life. 

The vacuity of life had, at some early period of his life, 
struck so forcibly on the mind of Mr. Johnson, that it be- 
came, by repeated impression, his favourite hypothesis; and 
the general tenor of his reasonings commonly ended there, 
wVierever they might begin. Such things, therefore, as 
other philosophers often atti*ibute to various and contradic- 
tory causes, appeared to him uniform enough: all was done 
to fill up the time, upon his principle. I used to tell him 
that it was like the clown's answer, in " As You Like It," 
of " Oh Lord, Sir!" for that it suited every occasion. One 
man, for example, was profligate and wild, as we call it — 
followed the girls, or sat still at the gaming-table. " Why, 
life must be filled up," says Johnson, " and the man who 
is not capable of intellectual pleasures must content him- 
self \vith such as his senses can afford." Another was a 
hoarder: " Why, a fellow must do something; and what 



62 JOHNSONIANA. 

SO easy to a narrow mind as hoarding halfpence till they 
turn into sixpences?" 

68. ^^varice. 

Avarice Avas a vice against which, however, I never 
much heard Mr. Johnson declaim, till one represented it to 
him connected with cruelty, or some such disgraceful com- 
panion. " Do not," said he, " discourage your children 
from hoarding, if they have a taste to it: whoever lays up 
his penny rather than part with it for a cake, at least is not 
the slave of gross appetite; and shows besides a preference, 
always to be esteemed, of thefutin-e to the present moment. 
Such a mind may be made a good one; but the natural 
spendthrift, who grasps his pleasures greedily and coarsely, 
and cares for nothing but immediate indulgence, is very 
little to be valued above a negro." 

69. Friendship. 

We were speaking of a gentleman who loved his friend: 
" Make him prime minister," says Johnson, " and see how 
long his friend will be remembered." But he had a 
rougher answer for me, when I commended a sermon 
preached by an intimate acquaintance of our own at the 
trading end of the town. " What was the subject, 
madam?" says Dr. Johnson: "Friendship, sir," replied I. 
" Why, now is it not strange that a wise man, like our dear 
little Evans, should take it in his head to preach on such a 
subject, in a place where no one can be thinking of it?" 
" Why, what are they thinking upon, sir?" said I. " Why, 
the men are thinking of their money, I suppose, and the 
women are thinking of their mops." 

70. Laced Coats. — Gentlemeyi. 

Dr. Johnson did not like that the upper ranks should be 
dignified with the name of the world. Sir Joshua Rey- 
nolds said one day, that nobody wore laced coats now; and 
that once everybody wore them. " See now," says John- 
son, " how absurd that is; as if the bulk of mankind consist- 
ed of fine gentlemen that came to him to sit for their pictures. 
If every man who wears a laced coat (that he can pay for) 
was extirpated, who would miss them?" With all this 
haughty contempt of gentility, no praise was more wel- 



piozzi. 63 

come to Dr. Johnson, than that which he said had the no- 
tions or manners of a gentleman: which character I have 
heard him define with accuracy, and describe with elegance. 
" Officers," he said, " were falsely supposed to have the 
carriage of gentlemen; whereas no profession left a stronger 
brand behind it than that of a soldier; and it was the es- 
sence of a gentleman's character to bear the visible mark of 
no profession whatever." 

71. Molly Aston. 

" Molly Aston," says Dr. Johnson, " was a beauty and 
a scholar, and a wit and Whig; and she talked all in 
praise of liberty; and so I made this epigram upon her. 
She was the loveliest creature I ever saw! 

' Liber ut esse velim, suasisti, pulchra Maria, 
Ut maneam liber — pulchra Maria, vale!' " 

" Will it do this way in English, sir?" said I. 

" ' Persuasions to freedom fall oddly from you ; 
If freedom we seek— fair Maria, adieu!' "* 

" It will do well enough," replied he; "but it is trans- 
lated by a lady, and the ladies never loved Molly Aston." 

I asked him what his wife thought of this attachment? 
" She was jealous, to be sure," said he, and teased me 
sometimes when I would let her; and one day as a fortune- 
telling gipsy passed us when we were walking out in com- 
pany with two or three friends in the country, she made 
the wench look at my hand, but soon repented her curiosity; 
for, says the gipsy, ' Your heart is divided, sir, between a 
Betty and a Molly; Betty loves you best, but you take 
most delight in Molly's company.' When I turned about 
to laugh, I saw my wife was crying. Pretty charmer! she 
had no reason!" 

72. Mrs. Fitzherbert. 

It was, I believe, long after the currents of life had 
driven him to a great distance from this lady, that he 
spent much of his time with Mrs. Fitzherbert, of whom 
he always spoke with esteem and tenderness, and with a 
veneration very difficult to deserve. " That woman," said 

♦ [See Boswell, vol. vii. p. 200.] 



64 JOHNSONIANA. 

he, "loved her husband as Ave hope and desire to be loved 
by our guardian angel. Fitzherbert was a gay, good- 
humoured fellow, generous of his money and of his meat, 
and desirous of nothing but cheerful society among people 
distinguished in some way, in a?iy ivay I think; for Rous- 
seau and St. Austin would have been equally welcome to 
his table and to his kindness: the lady, however, Avas of 
another way of thinking; her first care Avas to preserve her 
husband's soul from corruption; her second, to keep his 
estate entire for their children: and I oAved my good recep- 
tion in the family to the idea she had entertained that I was 
fit company for Fitzherbert, Avhom I loved extremely. 
' They dare not,' said she, ' SAvear and take other conver- 
sation-liberties before you.^ " I asked if her husband 
returned her regard? " He felt her influence too poAver- 
fuUy," replied Mr. Johnson: " no man will be fond of 
what forces him daily to feel himself inferior. She stood 
at the door of her paradise in Derbyshire, like the angel 
with the flaming sword, to keep the devil at a distance. 
But she was not immortal, poor dear! she died, and her 
husband felt at once afflicted and released." I inquired if 
she was handsome? " She would have been handsome for 
a queen," replied the panegyrist; "her beauty had more 
in it of majesty than of attraction, more of the dignity of 
virtue than the vivacity of Avit." 

73. Miss Boothby. 

The friend of this lady, Miss Boothby, succeeded her 
in the management of Mr. Fitzherbert's family, and in the 
esteem of Dr. Johnson; though he told me she pushed her 
piety to bigotry, her devotion to enthusiasm; that she some- 
what disqualified herself for the duties of this life, by her 
perpetual aspirations after the next: such Avas, however, 
the purity of her mind, he said, and such the graces of her 
manner, that Lord Lyttleton and he used to strive for her 
preference Avith an emulation that occasioned hourly dis- 
gust, and ended in lasting animosity. " You may see," 
said he to me, when the Poets' Lives were printed, " that 
dear Boothby is at my heart still.* She jvould delight in 

* [Notwithstanding the mention of the "heart" in this anecdote 
and in Johnson's letter to this lady in January 1755 (see Boswell, 



piozzi. 65 

that fellow Lyttle ton's company though, ^11 that I could 
do; and I cannot forgive even his memory the preference 
given by a mind like hers." 

I. have heard Baretti say, that when this lady died. Dr. 
Johnson was almost distracted with his grief; and that the 
friends about him had much ado to calm the violence of his 
emotion. 

74. Death of Mrs. Johnson. 

Dr. Taylor too related once to Mr. Thrale and me, that 
when he lost his wife, the negro Francis ran away, though 
in the middle of the night, to Westminster, to fetch Dr. 
Taylor to his master, who was all but wild with excess of 
sorrow, and scarce knew him when he arrived: after some 
minutes, however, the doctor proposed their going to pray- 
ers, as the only rational metliod of calming the disorder 
this misfortune had occasioned in both their spirits. Time, 
and resignation to the will of God, cured every breach in 
his heart before I made acquaintance with him, though he 
always persisted in saying he never rightly recovered the 
loss of his wife. It is in allusion to her that he records 



vol. viii. p. 28), there seems no reason to suppose that (as Miss 
Seward asserted) this was really an affair of the heart — " an early 
attachment." The other letters, of which Boswell says " that 
their merit is not so apparent," are written in still warmer terms 
of affection. Miss Boothby is a "sweet angel," and a "dear 
angel," and his "heart is full of tenderness;" but when the whole 
series of letters are read, it will be seen that the friendship began 
late in the life of both parties; that it was wholly platonic, or, to 
speak more properly, spiritual; and that the letters in which these 
very affectionate expressions occur were written when Johnson 
believed that Miss Boothby was dying. It must also be observed, 
that it is very unlikely that Johnson should seriously confess that 
he had been so unjust to Lord Lyttleton from any private pique; 
and it seems, by his letters to Mrs. Thrale (April 1779), that he* 
had no such feeling towards Lyttleton, and that he had applied to 
his lordship's friends to write the life; and finally, it is to be noted, 
Lord Lyttleton married his second lady in 1749, and Johnson does 
not seem to have known Miss Boothby till 1754. In short, I have 
no doubt, nor will any one who reads the letters and considers 
how little personal intercourse there could have been between 
Miss Boothby and Dr. Johnson, that the whole story is a mistake, 
founded, perhaps, on some confusion between Miss Boothby and 
Miss Aston, and countenanced, it must be admitted, by the warm 
expressions of the letters. — C] 
5 



66 JOHNSONIANA. 

the observation of a female critic, as he calls her, in Gay's 
Life; and the lady of great beauty and elegance, mentioned 
in the criticisms upon Pope's epitaphs, was Miss Molly 
Aston. The person spoken of in his strictures upon 
Young's poetry is the writer of these Anecdotes. 

75. Improvvisation. — Metastasio. 

Mr. Johnson did indeed possess an almost Tuscan power 
of improvvisation: when he called to my daughter, who was 
consulting with a friend about a new gown and dressed hat 
she thought of wearing at an assembly, thus suddenly, 
while she hoped he Avas not listening to their conversa- 
tion, — 

" "Wear the gown, and wear the hat, 

Snatch thy pleasures while they last; 
Hadst thou nine lives like a cat. 
Soon those nine lives would be past." 

It is impossible to deny to such little sallies the power of 
the Florentines, who do not permit their verses to be ever 
written down (though they often deserve it), because, as 
they express it, cosi se perderebbi la poca gloria. 

As for translations, we used to make him sometimes run 
oflf with one or two in a good humour. He was praising 
this song of Metastasio, — 

" Deh, se piacermi vuoi, 
Lascia i sospetti tuoi, 
Non mi turbar conquesto 
Molesto dubilar: 
^ Chi ciecamente crede, 

Impegna a serbar fede ; 
Chi sempre inganno aspetta, 
AUetta ad ingannar." 

" Should you like it in English," said he, " thus? — 

' Would you hope to gain my heart, 
Bid your teasing doubts depart; 
He who blindly trusts, will find 
Faith from every generous mind ; 
He who still expects deceit, 
Only leaches how to cheat.' " 

Mr. Baretti coaxed him likewise one day at Streatham 
out of a translation of Emirena's speech to the false cour- 
tier Aquileius, and it is probably printed before now, as I 



piozzi. 67 

think two or three people took copies; but perhaps it has 
sUpped their memories. 

" Ah! tu in corte invecchiasti, e giurerei 
Che fra i pochi nonsei lenace ancora 
Deir antica onesta.: quando bisogna, 
Saprai sereno in volto 
Vezzeggiare un nemico; acciS vi cada, 
AprirgU innanzi un precipizio, e poi 
Piangerne la caduta. Offrirti a tutti 
E non esser che tuo; di false lodi 
Vestir le accuse, ed aggravar le colpe 
Nel fame la difesa, ognor dal trono 

I buoni allontanar; d'ogni castigo 
Lasciar I'odio alio scettro, e d'ogni dono 

II merito usurpar: nascosto 

Sotio un zelo apparente un empio fine, 
Ne fabbricar che sulle allrui rouine." 

" Grown old in courts, thou art not surely one 
Who keeps the rigid rules of ancient honour; 
Well skill'd to soothe a foe with looks of kindness, 
To sink the fatal precipice before him. 
And then lament his fall with seeming friendship: 
Open to all, true only to thyself. 

Thou know'st those arts which blast with envious praise. 
Which aggravate a fault with feign'd excuses. 
And drive discountenanced virtue from the throne : 
That leave the blame of rigour to the prince, 
And of his every gift usurp the merit ; 
That hide in seeming zeal a wicked purpose, 
And only build upon another's ruin." 

These characters Dr. Johnson, however, did not delight 
in reading, or in hearing of: he always maintained that the 
world was not half as wicked as it was represented; and 
he might very well continue in that opinion, as he reso- 
lutely drove from him every story that could make him 
change it; and when Mr. Bickerstaffs flight confirmed the 
report of his guilt, and my husband said, in answer to 
Johnson's astonishment, that he had long been a suspected 
man: " By those who look close to the ground, dirt will 
be seen, sir,"' was the lofty reply: "I hope I see things 
from a greater distance." 

76. Winning Wives. — Sleepy-souled Wives. — Honey- 
suckle Wives. 
I pitied a friend before him, who had a whining wife 



68 JOHNSONIANA. 

that found everything painful to her, and nothing pleasing. 
— " He does not know that she whimpers," says Johnson; 
"when a door has creaked for a fortnight together, you 
may observe — the master will scarcely give sixpence to 
get it oiled." 

Of another lady, more insipid than offensive, I once 
heard him say, " She has some softness indeed, but so has 
a pillow." And when one observed in reply, that her 
husband's fidelity and attachment were exemplary, not- 
withstanding this low account at Avhich her perfections 
were rated — " Why, sir," cries the Doctor, " being mar- 
ried to these sleepy-souled women, is just like playing at 
cards for nothing: no passion is excited, and the time is 
filled up. I do not, however, envy a felloAV one of those 
honeysuckle wives for my part, as they are but creepers 
at best, and commonly destroy the tree they so tenderly 
cling about." 

77. Wales and Scotland. 

For a lady of quality, since dead, who received us at 
her husband's seat in Wales with less attention than he 
had long been accustomed to, he had a rougher denun- 
ciation: " That woman,'' cries Johnson, " is like sour 
small beer, the beverage of her table, and produce of the 
wretched country she lives in; like that, she could never 
have been a good thing, and even that bad thing is 
spoiled." This was in the same vein of asperity, and I 
believe with something like the same provocation, that he 
observed of a Scotch lady, " that she resembled a dead 
nettle; were she alive," said he, "she would sting." 

Mr. Johnson's hatred of the Scotch is so well known, 
and so many of his bons mots expressive of that hatred 
have been already repeated in so many books and pam- 
phlets, that 'tis perhaps scarcely worth while to write 
down the conversation between him and a friend of that 
nation who always resides in London, and who at his 
return from the Hebrides asked him, with a firm tone of 
voice, what he thought of his country? " That it is a 
very vile country to be sure, sir," returned for answer 
Dr. Johnson. " Well, sir!" replies the other, somewhat 
mortified, " God made it." " Certainly he did," answers 
Mr. Johnson again; " but we must always remember that 



piozzi. 69 

he made it for Scotchmen, and comparisons are odious, 
Mr. Strahan; but God made hell." 

78. Story-telling. — Foote. — Hawkins Browne. 

Dr. Johnson did not, I think, much delight in that kind 
of conversation which consists in telling stories: " Every 
body," said he, " tells stories of me, and I tell stories of 
nobody. I do not recollect," added he, " that I have ever 
told you, that have been always favourites, above three 
stories; but I hope I do not play the old fool, and force 
people to hear uninteresting narratives, only because I once 
was diverted with them myself." 

He was not, however, an enemy to that sort of talk from 
the famous Mr. Foote, " whose happiness of manner in 
relating was such," he said, " as subdued arrogance and 
roused stupidity: His stories were truly like those of Biron 
in ' Love's Labour Lost,' so very attractive, — 

' That aged ears play'd truant with his tales, 
And younger hearings were quite ravished; 
So sweet and voluble was his discourse.' 

"Of all conversers, however," added he, " the late 
Hawkins Browne was the most delightful with whom I 
ever was in company: his talk was at once so elegant, so 
apparently artless, so pure, and so pleasing, it seemed a 
perpetual stream of sentiment, enlivened by gaiety, and 
sparkling with images." 

79. George Psalmanazar. — Sick-beds. 

When I asked Dr. Johnson, who was the best man he 
had ever known? " Psalmanazar," was the unexpected 
reply: he said, likewise, that though a native of France, as 
his friend imagined, he possessed more of the English lan- 
guage than any one of the other foreigners who had sepa- 
rately fallen in his way. Though there was much esteem 
however, there was I believe but little confidence between 
them; they conversed merely about general topics, religion 
and learning, of which both were undoubtedly stupendous 
examples; and, with regard to true Christian perfection, I 
have heard Johnson say, " that George Psalmanazar's 
piety, penitence, and virtue exceeded almost what we read 
as wonderful, even in the lives of saints." 



70 JOHNSONIANA. 

I forget in what year it was that this extraordinary per- 
son lived and died at a house in Old Street, where Mr. 
Johnson was witness to his talents and virtues, and to his 
final preference of the Church of England, after having 
studied, disgraced, and adorned so many modes of worship. 
The name he went by was not supposed by his friend to 
be that of his family, but all inquiries were vain: his rea- 
sons for concealing his original Avere penitentiary; he de- 
served no other name than that of the impostor, he said. 
That portion of the Universal History which was written 
by him does not seem to me to be composed with peculiar 
spirit, but all traces of the wit and the wanderer were pro- 
bably worn out before he undertook the work. His pious 
and patient endurance of a tedious illness, ending in an ex- 
emplary death, confirmed the strong impression his merit 
had made upon the mind of Mr. Johnson. "It is so very 
difficult," said he, " always for a sick man not to be a 
scoundrel. Oh! set the pillows soft, here is Mr. Grumbler 
o'coming: Ah! let no air in for the world, Mr. Grumbler 
will be here presently." 

This perpetual preference is so offensive where the pri- 
vileges of sickness are besides supported by wealth, and 
nourished by dependence, that one cannot much wonder 
that a rough mind is revolted by them. It was however at 
once comical and touchant (as the French call it), to ob- 
serve Mr. Johnson so habitually watchful against this sort 
of behaviour, that he was often ready to suspect himself of 
it; and when one asked him gently how he did, — " Ready 
to become a scoundrel, madam," would commonly be the 
answer: " Avith a little more spoiling you will, I think, 
make me a complete rascal." 

80. Johnson and Goldsmith. 

Johnson made Goldsmith a comical answer one day, 
when seeming to repine at the success of Beattie's " Essay 
on Truth," — " Here's such a stir," said he, " about a fel- 
low that has written one book, and I have written many." 
" Ah, doctor," says his friend, " there go two-and-forty 
sixpences you know to one guinea." 

They had spent an evening with Eton Graham* too; I 

* [The Rev. George Graham, author of " Telemachus, a 
Mask."] 



piozzi. 71 

remember hearing it was at some tavern. His heart was 
open, and he began inviting away; told what he could do 
to make his college agreeable, and begged the visit might 
not be delayed. Goldsmith thanked him, and proposed 
setting out with Mr. Johnson for Buckinghamshire in a 
fortnight; " Nay hold, Dr. Minor,''^ says the other, " I did 
not invite you." 

Many such mortifications arose in the course of their 
intimacy to be sure, but few more laughable than when the 
newspapers had tacked them together as the pedant and his 
flatterer in " Love's Labour Lost." Dr. Goldsmith came to 
his friend, fretting and foaming, and vowing vengeance against 
the printer, &c., till Mr. Johnson, tired of the bustle, and de- 
sirous to think of something else, cried out at last, " Why, 
what would'st thou have, dear doctor! who the plague is hurt 
with all this nonsense? and how is a man the worse, I won- 
der, in his health, purse, or character, for being called 
Holofernes?'''' " I do not know," replies the other, " how 
you may relish being called Holofernes, but I do not like at 
least to play Goodman Bull.'''' * 

81. Abuse and Flattery. — Hannah More. 

Dr. Johnson was famous for disregarding pviblic abuse. 
When the people criticised and answered his pamphlets, 
papers, &c. " Why now, these fellows are only adver- 
tising my book," he would say; " it is surely better a man 
should be abused than forgotten." When Churchill net- 
tled him however, it is certain he felt the sting, or that 
poet's works would hardly have been left out of the edi- 
tion. But of that I have no right to decide: the booksell- 
ers, perhaps, did not put Churchill on their list. I know 
Mr. Johnson was exceedingly zealous to declare how very 
little he had to do with the selection. Churchill's works, 
too, might possibly be rejected by him upon a higher prin- 
ciple; the highest indeed, if he was inspired by the same 
laudable motive which made him reject every authority for 
a word in his dictionary, that could only be gleaned from 
writers dangerous to religion or morality: — "I would not," 
said he, " send people to look for words in a book, that by 
such a casual seizure of the mind might chance to mislead 
it for ever." In consequence of this delicacy, Mrs. Mon- 
tagu once observed, that Avere an angel to give the impri- 



72 JOHNSONIANA. 

matur, Dr. Johnson's works were among those very few 
which would not be lessened by a line. That such praise, 
from such a lady, should delight him, is not strange; in- 
sensibility in a case like that, must have been the result 
alone of arrogance acting on stupidity. 

Mr. Johnson had, indeed, no dislike to the commenda- 
tions which he knew he deserved: " What signifies pro- 
testing so against flattery!" would he cry; " when a person 
speaks well of one, it must be either true or false, you 
know; if true, let us rejoice in his good opinion; if he lies, 
it is a proof at least that he loves more to please me, than 
to sit silent when he need say nothing." 

That natural roughness of his manner, so often mention- 
ed, would, notwithstanding the regularity of his notions, 
burst through them all from time to time; and he once bade 
a very celebrated lady,* who praised him with too much 
zeal perhaps, or perhaps too strong an emphasis (which 
always oflfended him), " consider what her flattery was 
worth, before she choked him with it." A few more win- 
ters passed in the talking Avorld, showed him the value of 
that friend's commendations however; and he was very 
sorry for the disgusting speech he made her. 

82. Conversation without Effort. 

I used to think Mr. Johnson's determined preference of 
a cold monotonous talker over an emphatical and violent 
one, would make him quite a favourite among the men of 
ton, whose insensibility, or affectation of perpetual calmness, 
certainly did not give to him the offence it does to many. 
He loved " conversation Avithout effort," he said; and the 
encomiums I have heard him so often pronounce on the 
manners of Topham Beauclerc in society, constantly ended 
in that peculiar phrase, that " it was without effort.'''' 

83. Richardson. 

We were talking of Richardsun who wrote Clarissa: 
"You think I love flattery," says Dr. Johnson, " and so 
I do; but a little too much always disgusts me; that fellow 
Richardson, on the contrary, could not be contented to sail 

* [Hannah More. See Boswell, vol. vii. p. 137; and see also 
post, Nos. 451—472.] 




cy, /^ / iL^ <^^>^ 



piozzi. 73 

quietly down the stream of reputation, without longing to 
taste the froth from every stroke of the oar." 

84. Newspaper Abuse. 

With regard to sHght insults from newspaper abuse, I 
have already declared his notions: " they sting one," says 
he, " but as a fly stings a horse; and the eagle will not 
catch flies." 

85. Death and Sickness. — Garrick.~—Thrale. 

Knowing the state of Mr. Johnson's nerves, and how 
easily they were aflfected, I forbore reading in a new maga- 
zine one day, the death of a Samuel Johnson who expired 
that month; but my companion, snatching up the book, saw 
it himself, and contrary to my expectation, — " Oh!" said 
he; " I hope death will now be glutted with Sam. Johnsons, 
and let me alone for some time to come: I read of another 
namesake's departure last week." 

Though Mr. Johnson was commonly aff"ected, even to 
agony, at the thoughts of a friend's dying, he troubled him- 
self very little with the complaints they might make to him 
about ill health. " Dear Doctor," said he one day to a 
common acquaintance, who lamented the tender state of his 
inside, " do not be like the spider, man; and spin conversa- 
tion thus incessantly out of thy own bowels." 

I told him of another friend, who suff'ered grievously with 
the gout: — " He will live a vast many years for all that," 
replied he, " and then Avhat signifies how much he suffers? 
but he will die at last, poor fellow, there's the misery; gout 
seldom takes the fort by a coup-de-main, but turning the 
siege into a blockade, obliges it to surrender at discretion." 

A lady he thought well of was disordered in her head: 
— " What help has she called in?" inquired Johnson. 
" Dr. James, sir," was the reply. "What is her disease?" 
"Oh, nothing positive, rather a gradual and gentle decline." 
" She will die then, pretty dear!" answered he: " when 
death's pale horse nms away with persons on full speed, 
an active physician may possibly give them a turn; but if 
he carries them on an even slow pace, down hill too! no 
care nor skill can save them." 

When Garrick was on his last sick-bed, no arguments, 
or recitals of such facts as I had heard, would persuade 



74 JOHNSONIANA. 

Mr. Johnson of his danger: he had prepossessed himself 
with a notion, that to say a man was sick, was very near 
wishing him so; and few things offended him more than 
prognosticating even the death of an ordinary acquaintance. 
" Ay, ay," said he, " Swift knew the world pretty well 
when he said, that 

'Some dire misfortune to portend, 
No enemy can match a friend.' " 

The danger then of Mr. Garrick, or of Mr. Thrale, 
whomhe loved better, Avas an image which no one durst 
present before his view: he always persisted in the possi- 
bility and hope of their recovering disorders from which 
no human creatures, by human means alone, ever did re- 
cover. His distress for their loss was, for that very reason, 
poignant to excess; but his fears of his own salvation were 
excessive: his truly tolerant spirit, and Christian charity, 
which "hopeth all things," and "believeth all things," 
made him rely securely on the safety of his friends, while 
his earnest aspiration after a blessed immortality made him 
cautious of his own steps, and timorous concerning their 
consequences. He knew how much had been given, and 
filled his mind with fancies of how much would be re- 
quired, till his impressed imagination was often disturbed 
by them, and his health suffered from the sensibility of his 
too tender conscience: a real Christian is so apt to find his 
task above his poAver of performance! 

86. Belief. — Opinion. 

Mr. Johnson did not, however, give in to ridiculous re- 
finements either of speculation or practice, or suffer him- 
self to be deluded by specious appearances, " I have had 
dust thrown in my eyes too often," would he say, " to be 
blinded so. Let us never confound matters of belief with 
matters of opinion." 

87. Hope. — Possession. 

Some one urged in his presence the preference of hope 
to possession; and, as I remember, produced an Italian 
sonnet on the subject. "Let us not," cries Johnson, 
" amuse ourselves with subtleties and sonnets, when speak- 
ing about hope, which is the follower of faith and the pre- 



piozzi. 75 

cursor of eternity; but if you only mean those air-built 
hopes which to-day excites and to-morrow will destroy, let 
us talk away, and remember that we only talk of the 
pleasures of hope: we feel those of possession, and no man 
in his senses would change the last for the first, such hope 
is a mere bubble, that by a gentle breath may be blown to 
what size you will almost, but a rough blast bursts it at 
once. Hope is an amusement rather than a good, and 
adapted to none but very tranquil minds." 

88. Unprofitable Chat. 

Mr. Johnson hated what we call unprofitable chat; and 
to a gentleman who had disserted some time about the 
natural history of the mouse — " I wonder what such a 
one would have said," cried Johnson, " if he had ever had 
the luck to see a /ion.'" 

89. Apparitions. 

I well remember that at Brighthelmstone once, when he 
was not present, Mr. Beauclerc asserted that he was afraid 
of spirits; and I, who was secretly offended at the charge, 
asked him, the first opportunity I could find, what ground 
he had ever given to the world for such a report? " I 
can," replied he, "recollect nothing nearer it, than my 
telling Dr. Lawrence, many years ago, that a long time 
after my poor mother's death, I heard her voice call SamJ" 
" What answer did the doctor make to your story, sir?" 
said I. " None in the world," replied he; and suddenly 
changed the conversation. Now, as Mr. Johnson had a 
most unshaken faith, without any mixture of credulity, 
this story must either have been strictly true, or his per- 
suasion of its truth the effect of disordered spirits. I re- 
late the anecdote precisely as he told it me; but could not 
prevail on him to draw out the talk into length, for further 
satisfaction of my curiosity. 

90. Talents and Erudition. 

He always made a great difference in his esteem be- 
tween talents and erudition; and when be saw a person 
eminent for literature, though wholly unconversable, it 
fretted him. " Teaching such tonies," said he to me one 
day, " is like setting a lady's diamonds in lead, which only 



76 JOHNSONIANA. 

obscures the lustre of the stone, and makes the possessor 
ashamed on't." 

91. Every-day Knowledge. 

Useful, and Avhat we call every-day knowledge, had the 
most of his just praise. " Let your boy learn arithmetic, 
dear madam," was his advice to the mother of a rich young 
heir: " he will not then be a prey to every rascal which 
this town swarms with: teach him the value of money, and 
how to reckon it; ignorance to a wealthy lad of one-and- 
twenty is only so much fat to a sick sheep: it just serves 
to call the rooks about him; — 

And all that prey on vice or folly 

Joy to see their quarry fly; 
Here the ^ainester, light and jolly, 

There the lender, grave and sly." 

These improviso lines, making part of a long copy of 
verses which my regard for the youth,* on whose birthday 
they were written, obliges me to suppress lest they should 
give him pain, show a mind of surprising activity and 
warmth; the more so, as he was past seventy years of age 
when he composed them. 

92. Mental Decay. 

But nothing more certainly offended Mr. Johnson, than 
the idea of a man's faculties (mental ones I mean) decaying 
by time. "It is not true, sir," would he say; "what a 
man could once do he would always do, unless indeed by 
dint of vicious indolence, and compliance with the nepheAvs 
and nieces who crowd round an old fellow, and help to tuck 
him in, till he, contented with the exchange of fame for 
ease, e'en resolves to let them set the pillows at his back, 
and gives no further proof of his existence than just to suck 
the jelly that prolongs it." 

93. Life and Romance. 

For such a life, or such a death, Dr. Johnson was indeed 
never intended by Providence: his mind was like a Avarm 
climate, Avhich brings everything to perfection suddenly 

* [Sir John Lade. See Boswell, vol. viii. p. 414.] 



piozzi. 77 

and vigorously; not like the alembicated productions of 
artificial fire, which always betray the difficulty of bringing 
them forth when their size is disproportionate to their 
flavour. '■'■ Je ferais un Roman tout comme im autre, 
mais la vie ri' est point un Roman,'''' says a famous French 
writer; and this was so certainly the opinion of the author 
of The Rambler, that all his conversation precepts tended 
towards the dispersion of romantic ideas, and were chiefly 
intended to promote the cultivation of 

" That which before thee lies in daily life." 

94. Clarissa.— Lear. — lago.^Falstaff. 

And when he talked of authors, his praise went spon- 
taneously to such passages as are sure, in his own phrase, 
to leave something behind them useful on common occa- 
sions, or observant of common manners. For example, it 
was not the two last, but the two first volumes of Clarissa 
that he prized; " for give me a sick bed, and a dying lady," 
said he, " and I'll be pathetic myself: but Richardson had 
picked the kernel of life," he said, " while Fielding was 
contented with the husk." It was not King Lear cursing 
his daughters or deprecating the storm, that I remember 
his commendations of; but lago's ingenious malice and 
subtle revenge; or Prince Hal's gay compliance with the 
vices of Falstaff", whom he all along despised. Those 
plays had, indeed, no rivals in Johnson's favour: " No 
man but Shakspeare," he said, " could have drawn Sir 
John." 

95. Addison'' s Prose. 

His manner of criticising and commending Addison's 
prose, was the same in conversation as we read it in the 
printed strictures, and many of the expressions used have 
been heard to fall from him on common occasions. It was, 
notwithstanding, observable enough (or I fancied so), that 
he did never like, though he always thought fit to praise it; 
and his praises resembled those of a man who extols the 
superior elegance of high painted porcelain, while he him- 
self always chooses to eat off plate. I told him so one 
day, and he neither denied it nor appeared displeased. 



78 JOHNSONIANA. 

96. The Pathetic in Poetry. 

Of the pathetic in poetry he never liked to speak; and 
the only passage I ever heard him applaud as particularly 
tender in any common book, Avas Jane Shore's exclama- 
tion in the last act, — 

" Forgive me! but forgive me!" 

It was not, however, from the want of a susceptible 
heart that he hated to cite tender expressions; for he was 
more strongly and more violently atfected by the force of 
words representing ideas capable of affecting him at all, 
than any other man in the world, I believe; and when he 
would try to repeat the celebrated Prosa Ecclesiastica pro 
Mortuis, as it is called, beginning Dies irx. Dies ilia, he 
could never pass the stanza ending thus, Tantus labor non 
sit cassus, without bursting into a flood of tears; which 
sensibility I used to quote against him when he would 
inveigh against devotional poetry, and protest that all reli- 
gious verses were cold and feeble, and unworthy the sub- 
ject; which ought to be treated with higher reverence, he 
said, than either poets or painters could presume to excite 
or bestow. 

97. Promptitude of Thought. 

Promptitude of thought, and quickness of expression, 
were among the peculiar felicities of Johnson. His notions 
rose up like the dragon's teeth sowed by Cadmus all ready 
clothed, and in bright armour too, fit for immediate battle. 
He was therefore (as somebody is said to have expressed 
it) a tremendous converser, and few people ventured to 
try their skill against an antagonist with whom contention 
was so helpless. One gentleman, however, who dined at 
a nobleman's house in his company and that of Mr. Thrale, 
to whom I was obliged for the anecdote, was willing to 
enter the lists in defence of King William's character; and 
having opposed and contradicted Johnson two or three 
times petulantly enough, the master of the house began to 
feel uneasy, and expect disagreeable consequences: to avoid 
which he said, loud enough for the Doctor to hear, " Our 
friend here has no meaning now in all this, except just to 
relate at club to-morrow how he teased Johnson at dinner 



piozzi. 79 

to-day, — this is all to do himself honour.^'' " No, upon 
my word," replied the other, " I see no honour in it, what- 
ever you may do." " Well, sir!" returned Mr. Johnson 
sternly, " if you do not see the honour, I am sure I feel 
the disgraced 

A young fellow, less confident of his own abilities, la- 
menting one day that he had lost all his Greek, — " I believe 
it happened at the same time, sir," said Johnson, " that I 
lost all my large estate in Yorkshire." 

The Lincolnshire lady* who showed him a grotto she 
had been making, came off no better, as I remember: 
" Would it not be a pretty cool habitation in summer, Mr. 
Johnson?" said she. " I think it would, madam," replied 
he, — " for a toad." 

98. Compliments. 

When Mr. Johnson had a mind to compliment any one, 
he did it with more dignity to himself, and better effect 
upon the company, than any man. When Sir Joshua 
Reynolds left the room one day, he said, " There goes a 
man not to be spoiled by prosperity." And when Mrs. 
Montagu showed him some China plates which had once 
belonged to Queen Elizabeth, he told her, " that they had 
no reason to be ashamed of their present possessor, who 
was so little inferior to the first." 

He Avas not at all offended when, comparing all our 
acquaintance to some animal or other, we pitched upon 
the elephant for his resemblance, adding that the probos- 
cis of that creature Avas like his mind most exactly, strong 
to buffet even the tiger, and pliable to pick up even the 
pin. The truth is, Mr. Johnson was often good-humour- 
edly willing to join in childish amusements, and hated to be 
left out of any innocent merriment that was going forward. 
Mr. Murphy always said, he was incomparable at buffoon- 
ery; and I verily think if he had had good eyes, and a 
form less inflexible, he would have made an admirable 



♦ [Mrs. Langton, mother of his friend. — Malone MS. notes. This 
was not meant as rudeness to the lady; but Johnson hated grottos, 
and thought, as he has said in his Life of Pope, that they were 
" not often the wish or pleasure of an Englishman, who has more 
frequent need to solicit than to exclude the sun."] 



80 JOHNSONIANA. 

99. Johnson on Horseback. — Hunting. 

He certainly rode on Mr. Thrale's old hunter with a 
good firmness, and though he would follow the hounds 
fifty miles an end sometimes, would never own himself 
either tired or amused. " I have now learned," said he, 
" by hunting, to perceive that it is no diversion at all, nor 
ever takes a man out of himself for a moment: the dogs 
have less sagacity than I could have prevailed on myself 
to suppose; and the gentlemen often call to me not to ride 
over them. It is very strange, and very melancholy, that 
the paucity of human pleasiires should persuade us ever to 
call hunting one of them." He was, however, proud to be 
amongst the sportsmen; and I think no praise ever went so 
close to his heart, as when Mr. Hamilton called out one 
day upon Brighthelmstone Downs, " Why, Johnson rides 
as well, for aught I see, as the most illiterate fellow in 
England." * 

100. Conversation. 

Mr. Johnson, as he was a very talking man himself, had 
an idea that nothing promoted happiness so much as con- 
versation. A friend's erudition w^as commended one day 
as equally deep and strong: — " He will not talk, sir," was 
the reply, " so his learning does no good, and his wit, if 
he has it, gives us no pleasure: out of all his boasted stores 
I never heard him force but one word, and that word was 
Richard.'''' 

With a contempt not inferior he received the praises of 
a pretty lady's face and behaviour : " She says nothing, 
sir," answers Johnson; " a talking blackamoor were better 
than a white creature who adds nothing to life, and by sit- 
ting down before one thus desperately silent, takes away 
the confidence one should have in the company of her 
chair if she were once out of it." 

*[Mr. Boswellsays, that Johnson once hunted; this seems more 
probable than Mrs. Piozzi's and Hawkins's statements, from which 
it would be inferred, that he hunted habitually. It seems hard to 
figure to one's self Dr. Johnson fairly joining in this violent and, 
to him, one would suppose, extravagant and dangerous amuse- 
ment.— C] 



SI 



101. Love. — Francis Barber. 



As Ave had been saying one day, that no subject failed 
of receiving dignity from the manner in which Mr. John- 
son treated it, a lady at my house said she would make 
him talk about love, and took her measures accordingly, 
deriding the novels of the day because they treated about 
love. " It is not," replied our philosopher, " because they 
treat, as you call it, about love, but because they treat of 
nothing, that they are despicable; we must not ridicule a 
passion which he who never felt never was happy, and he 
who laughs at never deserves to feel — a passion which has 
caused the change of empires, and the loss of worlds — a 
passion which has inspired heroism and subdued avarice." 
He thought he had already said too much. "A passion, 
in short," added he with an altered tone, " that consumes 
me away for my pretty Fanny* here, and she is very 
cruel." 

He told us, however, in the course of the same chat, 
how his negro Francis had been eminent for his success 
among the girls. Seeing us all laugh, "I must have you 
know, ladies," said he, " that Frank has cai-ried the em- 
pire of Cupid farther than most men. When I was in 
Lincolnshire so many years ago, he attended me thither; 
and when we returned home together, I found that a 
female haymaker had followed him to London for love." 
Francis was indeed no small favourite with his master; 
who retained, however, a prodigious influence over his 
most violent passions. 

On the birthday of our eldest daughter, and that of our 
friend Dr. Johnson, the 17th and 18th of September, we 
every year made up a little dance and supper, to divert our 
servants and their friends, putting the summer-house into 
their hands for the two evenings, to fill with acquaintance 
and merriment. Francis and his white wife were invited 
of course. She was eminently pretty, and he was jealous, 
as my maids told me. On the first of these days' amuse- 
ments (I know not what year) Frank took oflfence at some 
attentions paid his Desdemona, and walked away next 

* [Miss Burney, the author of " Evelina."] 



82 JOHNSONIANA. 

morning to London in wrath. His master and I driving 
the same road an hour after, overtook him. " What is the 
matter, child," says Dr. Johnson, " that you leave Streat- 
ham to-day? Art sick?'''' "He is jealous," whispered I. 
"Are you jealous of your wife, you stupid blockhead?" 
cries out his master in another tone. The fellow hesi- 
tated; and, "Tb he sure, sir, I dort't quite approve, sir,^^ 
was the stammering reply. " Why, what do they do to 
her, man? do the footmen kiss her?" " No, sir, no! — Kiss 
my wife, sir! — / hope not, sir,^^ " Why, what do they 
do to her, my lad?" " Why nothing, sir, I'm sure, sir." 
" Why, then, go back directly and dance, you dog, do; and 
let's hear no more of such empty lamentations." I be- 
lieve, however, that Francis Avas scarcely as much the 
object of Mr. Johnson's personal kindness, as the repre- 
sentative of Dr. Bathurst, for whose sake he would have 
loved anybody, or anything. When he spoke of negroes, 
he always appeared to think them of a race naturally infe- 
rior, and made few exceptions in favour of his own; yet 
whenever disputes arose in his household among the many 
odd inhabitants of which it consisted, he always sided 
with Francis against the others, whom he suspected (not 
unjustly, I believe) of greater malignity. 

102. Poverty of Sentiment. 

It was never against people of coarse life that his con- 
tempt was expressed, while poverty of sentiment in men 
who considered themselves to be company for the parlour, 
as he called it, was what he would not bear. A very ig- 
norant young fellow who had plagued us all for nine or 
ten months, died at last consumptive: " I think," said Mr. 
Johnson, when he heard the news, " I am afraid, I should 
have been more concerned for the deatli of the dog; but 

" (hesitating a while) " I am not wrong now in all 

this, for the dog acted up to his character on every occa- 
sion that we know; but that dunce of a fellow helped for- 
ward the general disgrace of humanity." " Why, dear 
sir," said I, " how odd you are! you have often said the 
lad was not capable of receiving further instruction." " He 
was," replied the Doctor, " like a corked bottle, with a 
drop of dirty water in it, to be sure; one might pump upon 
it for ever without the smallest effect; but when every 



Piozzi. 83 

method to open and clean it had been tried, you would not 
have me grieve that the bottle was broke at last?" 

This was the same youth who told us he had been read- 
ing Lucius Florus; Florus Dclphini was the phrase; and 
" my mother," said he, " thought it had something to do 
with Delphos; but of that I know nothing." " Who 
founded Rome, then?" inquired Mr. Thrale. The lad re- 
plied, "Romulus." "And who succeeded Romulus?" 
said I. A long pause, and apparently distressful hesitation, 
followed the difficult question. " Why will you ask him 
in terms that he does not comprehend?" said Mr. Johnson 
enraged. " You might as well bid him tell you who phle- 
botomised Romulus. This fellow's dulness is elastic," 
continued he, " and all we do is but like kicking at a wool- 
sack." 

103. Public Schools. — Useful Knowledge. 

I remember his saying, " A boy should never be sent to 
Eton or Westminster school before he is twelve years old 
at least; for if in his years of babyhood he 'scapes that 
general and transcendent knowledge without which life is 
perpetually put to a stand, he will never get it at a public 
school, where if he does not learn Latin and Greek, he 
learns nothing." 

Mr. Johnson often said, " that there was too much stress 
laid upon literature as indispensably necessary: there is 
surely no need that everybody should be a scholar, no call 
that every one should square the circle. Our manner of 
leaching," said he, " cramps and warps many a mind, 
which if left more at liberty would have been respectable 
in some way, though perhaps not in that. We lop our 
trees, and prune them, and pinch them about," he would 
say, "and nail them tight up to the wall, while a good 
standard is at last the only thing for bearing healthy fruit, 
though it commonly begins later. Let the people learn 
necessary knowledge; let them learn to count their fingers, 
and to count their money, before they are caring for the 
classics; for," says Mr. Johnson, "though I do not quite 
agree with the proverb, that Nullum numen abest si sit 
prudentia, yet we may very well say, that Nullum numen 
adest — ni sit prudentia.''^ 



84 JOHNSONIANA. 

104. Ignorance. 

We had been visiting at a lady's house, whom as we 
returned some of the company ridiculed for her ignorance: 
" She is not ignorant," said he, " I believe, of anything 
she has been taught, or of anything she is desirous to 
know; and I suppose if one wanted a little run tea, she 
might be a proper person enough to apply to." 

105. Johnson'' s Pride and Severity. 

When I relate these various instances of contemptuous 
behaviour shown to a variety of people, I am aware that 
those Avho till now have heard little of Mr. Johnson Avill 
here cry out against his pride and his severity; yet I have 
been as careful as I could to tell them, that all he did was 
gentle, if all he said was rough. Had I given anecdotes 
of his actions instead of his words, we should, I am sure, 
have had nothing on record but acts of virtue differently 
modified, as different occasions called that virtue forth: 
and among all the nine biographical essays or perform- 
ances which I have heard will at last be written about dear 
Dr. Johnson, no mean or Avretched, no wicked or even 
slightly culpable, action will, I trust, be found, to produce 
and put in the scale against a life of seventy years, spent 
in the uniform practice of every moral excellence and 
every Christian perfection, save humility alone, says a 
critic; but that, I think, must be excepted. He was not, 
however, wanting even in that to a degree seldom at- 
tained by man, when the duties of piety or charity called 
it forth. 

Lowly towards God, and docile towards the church; 
implicit in his belief of the gospel, and ever respectful 
towards the people appointed to preach it; tender of the 
unhappy, and affectionate to the poor, let no one hastily 
condemn as proud, a character which may perhaps some- 
what justly be censured as arrogant. It must however 
be remembered again, that even this arrogance Avas never 
shown without some intention, immediate or remote, of 
mending some fault or conveying some instruction. Had 
I meant to make a panegyric on Mr. Johnson's well- 
known excellencies, I should have told his deeds only, not 
his words — sincerely protesting, that as I never saw him 



'piozzi. 85 

once do a Avrong tiling, so we had accustomed ourselves 
to look upon him almost as an excepted being; and I 
should as much have expected injustice from Socrates, or 
impiety from Pascal, as the slightest deviation from truth 
and goodness in any transaction one might be engaged in 
with Samuel Johnson. 

106. Veracity. — Clarissa. — Amelia. 

His attention to veracity was without equal or example: 
and when I mentioned Clarissa as a perfect character; 
" On the contrary," said he, " you may observe there is 
always something which she prefers to truth. Fielding's 
Amelia was the most pleasing heroine of all the romances," 
he said; "but that vile broken nose, never cured, ruined 
the sale of perhaps the only book, which, being printed off 
betimes one morning, a new edition was called for before 
night." 

107. Lucy Porter. — Contradiction. 

His wife's daughter, Mrs. Lucy Porter of Litchfield, 
whose veneration for his person and character has ever 
been the greatest possible, being opposed one day in con- 
versation by a clergyman who came often to her house, 
and feeling somewhat offended, cried out suddenly, " Why, 
Mr. Pearson," said she, " you are just like Dr. Johnson, 
I think: I do not mean that you are a man of the greatest 
capacity in all the world like Dr. Johnson, but that you 
contradict one every word one speaks, just like him." 
Mr. Johnson told me the story: he was present at the 
giving of the reproof. It was, however, observable that 
with all his odd severity, he could not keep even indifferent 
people from teasing him with unaccountable confessions 
of silly conduct, which one would think they would 
scarcely have had inclination to reveal even to their tender- 
est and most intimate companions; and it was from these 
unaccountable volunteers in sincerity, that he learned to 
warn the world against follies little known, and seldom 
thought on by other moralists. 

108. Vows. 

Much of his eloquence, and much of his logic, have I 
heard him use to prevent men from making vows on 



86 JOHNSONIANA. 

trivial occasions; and when he saw a person oddly per- 
plexed about a slight difficulty, " Let the man alone," he 
would say, " and torment him no more about it: there 
is a vow in the case, I am convinced; but is it not very 
strange, that people should be neither afraid nor ashamed 
of bringing in God Almighty thus at every turn between 
themselves and their dinner?" When I asked what ground 
he had for such imaginations, he informed me, that " a 
young lady once told him in confidence, that she could 
never persuade herself to be dressed against the bell rung 
for dinner, till she had made a vow to Heaven, that she 
would never more be absent from the family meals." 

109. Scruples of Conscience. 

The strangest applications in the world were certainly 
made from time to time towards Mr. Johnson; who by 
that means had an inexhaustible fund of anecdote, and 
could, if he pleased, tell the most astonishing stories of 
human folly and human Aveakness, that ever Avere confided 
to any man not a confessor by profession. 

One day Avhen he was in a humour to record some of 
them, he told us the folloAving tale: " A person," said he, 
" had for these last five weeks often called at my door, but 
would not leave his name, or other message; but that he 
wished to speak Avith me. At last Ave met, and he told me 
that he Avas oppressed by scruples of conscience, I 
blamed him gently for not applying, as the rules of our 
church direct, to his parish priest or other discreet clergy- 
man; when, after some compliments on his part, he told 
me, that he Avas clerk to a very eminent trader, at Avhose 
warehouses much business consisted in packing goods in 
order to go abroad: that he Avas often tempted to take paper 
and packthread enough for his OAvn use, and that he had 
indeed done so so often, that he could recollect no time when 
he ever had bought any for himself, ' But probably,' said I, 
' your master was wholly indifferent with regard to such 
trivial emoluments; you had better ask for it at once, and 
so take your trifles with consent.' ' Oh, sir!' replies the 
visitor, ' my master bid me have as much as I pleased, and 
was half angry when I talked to him about it.' ' Then 
pray, sir,' said I, ' tease me no more about such airy no- 
things;' — and Avas going on to be very angry, Avhen I re- 



Piozzi. 87 

collected that the fellow might be mad perhaps: so I asked 
him when he left the counting-house of an evening? ' At 
seven o'clock, sir?' ' And when do you go to bed, sir?' 
' At twelve o'clock.' ' Then,' replied I, ' I have at least 
learned thus much by my new acquaintance; — that five 
hours of the four-and-twenty unemployed are enough for 
a man to go mad in; so I would advise you, sir, to study 
algebra, if you are not an adept already in it: your head would 
get less muddy, and you will leave off tormenting your 
neighbours about paper and packthread, while we all live 
together in a Avorld that is bursting with sin and sorrow.' 
It is perhaps needless to add, that this visitor came no 
more." 

110. Luck with Pupils. 

He had not much luck with two boys that he used to 
tell of, to whom he had taught the classics, " so that,"' he 
said, " they were no incompetent or mean scholars:" it was 
necessary, however, that something more familiar should 
be known, and he bid them read the History of England. 
After a few months had elapsed, he asked them "if they 
could recollect who first destroyed the monasteries in our 
island?" One modestly replied, that he did not know; the 
other said, Jesus Christ. 

111. ^^ Burke in a Bag.'''' 

An Irish trader at our house one day heard Dr. Johnson 
launch out into very great and greatly deserved praises of 
Mr. Edmund Burke: delighted to find his countryman 
stood so high in the opinion of a man he had been told so 
much of, " Sir," said he, " give me leave to tell something 
of Mr. Burke now." We were all silent, and the honest 
Hibernian began to relate how Mr. Burke went to see the 
collieries in a distant province; and "he would go down 
into the bowels of the earth in a bag, and he would exa- 
mine everything: he went in a bag, sir, and ventured 
his health and his life for knowledge; but he took care of 
his clothes, that they should not be spoiled, for he went 
down in a bag." " Well, sir," says Mr. Johnson, good- 
humouredly, " if our friend Mund should die in any of 
these hazardous exploits, you and I would write his life 



88 JOHNSONIANA. 

and panegyric together; and your chapter of it should be 
entitled thus: ' Burke in a BagJ' " 

He had always a very great personal regard and par- 
ticular afTection for Mr. Edmund Burke, as well as an 
esteem difficult for me to repeat, though for him only easy 
to express. And when, at the end of the year 1774, the 
general election called iis all different ways, and broke up 
the delightful society in which we had spent some time at 
Beaconsfield, Dr. Johnson shook the hospitable master of 
the house kindly by the hand, and said, " Farewell, my 
dear sir, and remember that I wish you all the success 
which ought to be wished you, which can possibly be 
wished you indeed — by an honest man.'''' 

112. Sorroivs of Vanity. 

When I have told how many follies Dr. Johnson knew 
of others, I must not omit to mention with how much 
fidelity he would always have kept them concealed, could 
they of whom he knew the absurdities have been contented, 
in the common phrase, to keep their own counsel. But, 
returning home one day from dining at the chaplain's 
table, he told me, that Dr. Goldsmith had given a very 
comical and unnecessarily exact recital there, of his own 
feelings when his play was hissed; telling the company 
how he went indeed to the Literary Club at night, and 
chatted gaily among liis friends, as if nothing had hap- 
pened amiss; that to impress them still more forcibly Avith 
an idea of his magnanimity, he even sang his favourite song 
about an old woman tossed in a blanket seventeen times as 
high as the moon: " but all this Avhile I was suffering 
horrid tortures," said he, " and verily believe that if I had 
put a bit into my mouth it would have strangled me on the 
spot, I was so excessively ill; but I made more noise than 
usual to cover all that, and so they never perceived my not 
eating, nor, I believe, at all imaged to themselves the anguish 
of my heart: but when all were gone except Johnson here, 
I burst out a crying, and even s'wore that I would never 
write again." "All which. Doctor," says Mr. Johnson, 
amazed at his odd frankness, " I thought had been a secret 
between you and me; and I am sure I would not have said 
anything about it for the world." " Now see," repeated 
he, when he told the story, " what a figure a man makes 



Piozzi. 89 

who thus unaccountably chooses to be the frigid narrator 
of his own disgrace. // volto sciolto, ed i pensieri stretti, 
was a proverb made on purpose for such mortals, to keep 
people, if possible, from being thus the heralds of their 
own shame: for what compassion can they gain by such 
silly narratives? No man should be expected to sympa- 
thize with the sorrows of vanity. If, then, you are mor- 
tified by any ill usage, whether real or supposed, keep at 
least the account of such mortifications to yourself, and 
forl^ear to proclaim how meanly you are thought on by 
others, unless you desire to be meanly thought of by all." 

113. — Superfluous Ingenuity. — Nichiames 

The little history of another friend's superfluous in- 
genuity will contrilnite to introduce a similar remark. He 
had a daughter of about fourteen years old, as I remember, 
fat and clumsy: and though the father adored, and desired 
others to adore her, yet being aware perhaps that she was 
not what the French call petrie des graces, and thinking, 
I suppose, that the old maxim, of beginning to laugh at 
yourself first where you have anything ridiculous about 
you, was a good one, he comically enough called his girl 
Trundle when he spoke of her; and many who bore neither 
of them any ill-will felt disposed to laugh at the happiness 
of the appellation. " See now," says Dr. Johnson, " what 
haste people are in to be hooted. Nobody ever thought of 
this fellow nor of his daughter, could he but have been 
quiet himself, and forborne to call the eyes of the world on 
his dowdy and her deformity. But it teaches one to see 
at least, that if nobody else Avill nickname one's children, 
the parents will e'en do it themselves." 

114. ''Blinking Sam.'' 

All this held true in matters to Mr. Johnson of more 
serious consequence. When Sir Joshua Reynolds had 
painted his portrait looking into the slit of his pen, and 
holding it almost close to his eye, as was his general 
custom, he felt displeased, and told me, " he would not 
be known by posterity for his defects only, let Sir Joshua 
do his worst." I said, in reply, that Reynolds had no such 
difficulties about himself, and that he might observe the 
picture which hung up in the room where we were talking, 



90 JOHNSONIANA. 

represented Sir Joshua holding his ear in his hand to catch 
the sound. " He may paint himself as deaf if he chooses," 
replied Johnson; " but I will not be blinking Sam.''^ 

115. Shakspeare. 

It is chiefly for the sake of evincing the regularity and 
steadiness of Mr, Johnson's mind that I have given these 
trifling memoirs, to show that his soul was not diflferent 
from that of another person, but, as it was, greater; and to 
give those who did not know him a just idea of his acqui- 
escence in what Ave call vulgar prejudices, and of his ex- 
treme distance from those notions which the world has 
agreed, I know not very well why, to call romantic. It is, 
indeed, observable in his preface to Shakspeare, that while 
other critics expatiate on the creative powers and vivid 
imagination of that matchless poet. Dr. Johnson commends 
him for giving so just a representation of human manners, 
" that from his scenes a hermit might estimate the value of 
society, and a confessor predict the progress of the pas- 
sions." 

116. Choice of a Wife. 

The general and constant advice he gave, too, when 
consulted about the choice of a wife, a profession, or what- 
ever influences a man's particular and immediate happi- 
ness, was always to reject no positive good from fears of 
its contrary consequences. " Do not," said he, " forbear 
to marry a beautiful woman, if you can find such, out of a 
fancy that she will be less constant than an ugly one; or 
condemn yourself to the society of coarseness and vulgarity 
for fear of the expenses, or other dangers, of elegance and 
personal charms; which have been always acknowledged 
as a positive good, and for the Avant of which there should 
be always given some weighty compensation. I have, 
however," continued Mr. Johnson, "seen some prudent 
felloAvs Avho forbore to connect themselves with beauty lest 
coqueti'y should be near, and with wit or birth lest inso- 
lence should lurk behind them, till they have been forced 
by their discretion to linger life away in tasteless stupidity, 
and choose to count the moments by remembrance of pain 
instead of enjoyment of pleasure." 



91 



117. Professions. — Roger Jischam. 

When professions were talked of, " Scorn," said Mr. 
Johnson, " to put vour behaviour under the dominion of 
canters: never think it clever to call physic a mean study, 
or law a dry one; or ask a baby of seven years old which 
way his genius leads him, when we all know that a boy 
of seven years old has no genius for anything except a 
peg top and an apple-pie; but fix on some business where 
much money may be got and little virtue risked: follow 
that business steadily, and do not live as Roger Ascham 
says the wits do, ' men know not how; and at last die ob- 
scurely, men mark not where.'' " 

118. Opinion of the World. 

Dr. Johnson had a veneration for the voice of mankind 
beyond what most people will own; and as he liberally 
confessed that all his own disappointments proceeded from 
himself, he hated to hear others complain of general injus- 
tice. I remember when lamentation was made of the 
neglect showed to Jeremiah Markland, a great philologist, 
as some one ventured to call him: — " He is a scholar, un- 
doubtedly, sir," replied Dr. Johnson; " but remember that 
he would run from the world, and that it is not the world's 
business to run after him. I hate a fellow whom pride, or 
cowardice, or laziness drives into a corner, and does no- 
thing when he is there but sit and growl; let him come 
out as I do, and bark.^^* 

* [Mr. Markland, who has favoured me with many kind and 
useful suggestions, observes on this passage, that "Johnson's cen- 
sure was undeserved. Jeremiah Markland was certainly no 
growler. He sought for, because he loved, retirement; and re- 
jected a\l the honours and rewards which were liberally offered to 
his acceptance. During a long life, he devoted himself unceas- 
ingly to those pursuits for which he was best fitted, collating the 
classics, and illustrating the Scriptures. ' Sequantur alii famam, 
aucupentur divitias, hie ilia oculis irretortis contemplatus, post 
terga constanter rejecit .... In solitudinem se recepil, studiis 
excolendis et pauperibus snblevandis unice intentus.' Such is 
the character given of Markland by his pupil and friend Edward 
Clarke." Mrs. Piozzi's flippant expression (" a great philologist, 
as some one ventured to call him") will excite a smile, when we 
recollect what Markland has done as a philologist, and the esti- 
mation in which he has been held both by the most learned of his 



92 JOHNSONIANA. 

119. Retirement from the World. 

"The world," added he, "is chiefly unjust and ungene- 
ous in this, that all are ready to encourage a man who once 
talks of leaving it, and few things do really provoke me 
more, than to hear people prate of retirement, when they 
have neither skill to discern their own motives, nor pene- 
tration to estimate the consequences; but while a fellow 
is active to gain either power or wealth," continued he, 
" everybody produces some hinderance to his advance- 
ment, some sage remark, or some unfavourable prediction; 
but let him once say slightly, I have had enough of this 
troublesome bustling world, 'tis time to leave it now: ' Ah, 
dear sir!' cries the first old acquaintance he meets, ' I am 
glad to find you in this happy disposition: yes, dear friend! 
do retire, and think of nothing but your own ease: there's 
Mr. William will find it a pleasure to settle all your ac- 
counts, and relieve you from the fatigue; Miss Dolly makes 
the charmingest chicken broth in the world, and the cheese- 
cakes we eat of hers once, how good they were: I will be 
coming every two or three days myself to chat with you 
in a quiet Avay; so smig! and tell you how matters go upon 
' Change,' or in the House, or, according to the blockhead's 
first pursuits, Avhether lucrative or politic, which thus he 
leaves; and lays himself down a voluntary prey to his own 
sensuality and sloth, while the ambition and avarice of the 

contemporaries (including Johnson himself), and the most dis- 
tinguished scholars of our own time. Dr. Burney, in a tone of 
the highest panegyric, numbered him with Bentley, Dawes, Toup, 
and Porson; and a still later writer has thus candidly enumerated 
his merits: " Markland was endowed with a respectable portion 
of judgment and sagacity. He was very laborious, loved retire- 
ment, and spent a long life in the study of the Greek and Latin 
languages. For modesty, candour, literary honesty, and cour- 
teousness to other scholars, he is justly considered as the model 
w^hich ought to be proposed for the imitation of every critic." — 
Quart. Rev. vol. vii. p. 442: so far Mr. Markland. It is but 
just to all parties, that I should add, that (whatever Johnson may 
have said in the current of conversation, and probably in allusion 
to some minute and unrecorded circiunstance,) he had a fixed 
respect for the talents and character of Markland. For it appears 
that, on the 20th October, 1782, he wrote to Mr. Nichols, urging 
him to obtain some record of the Life of Markland, who, with 
Jortin and Thirlby, he calls three contemporaries of great emi- 
nence. — C] 



piozzi. 93 

nephews and nieces, with their rascally adherents and co- 
adjutors, reap the advantage, while they fatten their fool." 

120. Marrying for Money. 

As the votaries of retirement had little of Mr. Johnson's 
applause, unless he knew that the motives were merely 
devotional, and unless he was convinced that their rituals 
were accompanied by a mortified state of the body, the 
sole proof of their sincerity which he would admit, as a 
compensation for such fatigue as a worldly life of care 
and activity requires; so of the various states and condi- 
tions of humanity, he despised none more, I think, than 
the man who marries for a maintenance: and of a friend 
who made his alliance on no higher principles, he said 
once, " Now has that fellow" (it was a nobleman of whom 
we were speaking) " at length obtained a certainty of three 
meals a day, and for that certainty, like his brother dog in 
the fable, he will get his neck galled for life with a collar." 

121. Poverty. 

That poverty was an evil to be avoided by all honest 
means however, no man was more ready to avow: con- 
cealed poverty particularly, Avhich he said Avas the general 
corrosive that destroyed the peace of almost every family; 
to Avhich no evening perhaps ever returned without some 
new project for hiding the sorrows and dangers of the 
next day. " Want of money," says Dr. Johnson, " is 
sometimes concealed under pretended avarice, and sly 
hints of aversion to part with it; sometimes under stormy 
anger, and affectation of boundless rage; but oftener still 
under a show of thoughtless extravagance and gay neglect; 
while, to a penetrating eye, none of these wretched veils 
suffice to keep the cruel truth from being seen. Poverty 
is hie et ubique,'" says he; " and if you do shut the jade out 
of the door, she will always contrive, in some manner, to 
poke her pale lean face in at the window." 

122. Old Age.— Dogs. 

I have mentioned before, that old age had very little 
of Mr. Johnson's reverence: "A man commonly grew 
wickeder as he grew older," he said, " at least he but 
changed the vices of youth; headstrong passion and wild 



94 JOHNSONIANA. 

temerity, for treacherous caution and desire to circumvent. 
I am always," said he, " on the young people's side, when 
there is a dispute between them and the old ones: for you 
have at least a chance for virtue till age has withered its 
very root." 

While we were talking, my mother's spaniel, whom he 
never loved, stole our toast and butter; " Fie, Belle!" 
said I, " you used to be upon honour." " Yes, madam," 
replies Johnson, " but Belle grows old.^" His reason 
for hating the dog was, " because she was a professed 
favourite," he said, " and because her lady ordered her 
from time to time to be washed and combed: a foolish 
trick," said he, " and an assumption of superiority that 
every one's nature revolts at; so because one must not 
wish ill to the lady in such cases," continued he, " one 
curses the cur." The truth is, Belle was not well behaved, 
and being a large spaniel, was troublesome enough at din- 
ner with frequent solicitations to be fed. " This animal," 
said Dr. Johnson one day, " would have been of extraor- 
dinary merit and value in the state of Lycurgus; for she 
condemns one to the exertion of perpetual vigilance." 

123. Cats. — Hodge's Oysters. 

He had that strong aversion felt by all the lower ranks 
of people towards four-footed companions very completely, 
notwithstanding he had, for many years, a cat which he 
called Hodge, that kept always in his room at Fleet 
Street; but so exact was he not to offend the human 
species by superflous attention to brutes, that when the 
creature was grown sick and old, and could eat nothing 
but oysters, Mr. Johnson always went out himself to buy 
Hodge's dinner, that Francis the black's delicacy might 
not be hurt, at seeing himself employed for the conve- 
nience of a quadruped. 

124. Mr. Cholmondeley . 

No one was so attentive not to offend in all such sort 
of things as Dr. Johnson; nor so careful to maintain the 
ceremonies of life: and though he told Mr. Thrale once, 
that he had never sought to please till past thirty years old, 
considering the matter as hopeless, he had been always 
studious not to make enemies, by apparent preference of 



piozzi, 95 

himself. It happened very comically, that the moment 
this curious conversation passed, of which I was a silent 
auditress, was in the coach, in some distant province, 
either Shropshire or Derbyshire I believe; and as soon as 
it Avas over, Mr. Johnson took out of his pocket a little 
book and read, while a gentleman of no small distinction 
for his birth and elegance suddenly rode up to the carriage, 
and paying us all his proper compliments, was desirous 
not to neglect Dr. Johnson; but observing that he did not 
see him, tapped him gently on the shoulder. " 'Tis Mr. 
Cholmondeley," says my husband. " Well, sir, and Avhat 
if it is Mr. Cholmondeley?" says the other sternly, just 
lifting his eyes a moment from his book, and returning to 
it again with renewed avidity.* 



* [For Boswell's strictures on this passage, see Life, vol. viii. 
p. 347. I subjoin Mr Cholmondeley's own account of the circum- 
stance, which however only confirms Mrs. Piozzi's statement: — 
" In the year 1774 I was making a tour of Derbyshire in a gig 
with Windham. Just as we came to the point of the hill going 
down into Matlock, we saw Mr. Thrale's carriage and four, in 
which were Dr. Johnson, Mr. and Mrs. Thrale: the horses were 
breathing after ascending the hill; we had heard they were in 
those parts; of course this rencontre excited some interest. I, with 
all the conceit of a young man, saying, ' I know Dr. Johnson very 
well, I'll manage it all;' tripped very pertly from the gig to the 
carriage, shook hands with Mr. and Mrs. Thrale, who were very 
glad to see me as people are glad in a commonplace way. Dr. 
Johnson look not the smallest notice; on which Mr. Thrale said, 
' Dr. Johnson, here is Mr. Cholmondeley.' Dr. Johnson neither 
spoke nor moved. He repeated, ' Dr. Johnson, here is Mr. Chol- 
mondeley.' Dr Johnson was equally silent. Mr. Thrale repeated 
it a third time; when Dr. Johnson answered, ' Well, sir! and what 
if there is Mr. Cholmondeley'?' I, of course, tripped back again, 
much entertained at the humorous way in which my conceit had 
been put down. I imagine Mrs. Thrale must, in some dispute, 
have reproached him with this, as an instance of unprovoked bru- 
tality towards an unoffending person. Four years afterwards, I 
went to dine at Mr. Thrale's, at Brighton. The house was small; 
the passage running close by the room into the street. I arrived 
before Dr. Johnson was dressed. When he entered the room, he 
said, ' George, I want to speak to you.' He led me from the passage 
into the street; then said, ' George, I owe you reparation for an in- 
jury which I do not recollect. I am told that, some years ago, I 
met you on the point of Matlock Hill, and spoke to you with unjus- 
tifiable insolence: whether I was thinking of something else, or 
whether I had been quarrelling with Thrale, I know not; but I 
ought not so to have insulted an innocent unoffending young man; 



96 JOHNSONIANA. 



125. "/n Vino Veritas.'' 

It was unkicky for those who delighted to echo John- 
son's sentiments, that he would not endure from them 
to-day, what perhaps he had yesterday, by his own 
manner of treating the subject, made them fond of repeat- 
ing; and I fancy Mr. Boswell has not forgotten, that 
though his friend one evening in a gay humour talked in 
praise of wine, as one of the blessings permitted by 
Heaven Avhen used with moderation, to lighten the load 
of life, and give men strength to endure it; yet, when in 
consequence of such talk he thought fit to make a Bac- 
chanalian discourse in its favour, Mr. Johnson contradicted 
him somewhat roughly, as I remember; and when, to 
assure himself of conquest, he added these words, " You 
must allow me, sir, at least, that it produces truth, in vino 
Veritas, you know, sir." "That," replied Mr. Johnson, 
" would be useless to a man who knew he was not a liar 
when he was sober." 

126. Ossian. — 3Iacpherson. 

When one talks of giving and taking the lie familiarly, 
it is impossible to forbear recollecting the transactions 
between the editor of Ossian and the author of the Journey 
to the Hebrides. It was most observable to me, however, 
that Mr. Johnson never bore his antagonist the slightest 
degree of ill-will. He always kept those quarrels which 
belonged to him as a writer, separate from those which 
he had to do with as a man; but I never did hear him 
say in private one malicious word of a public enemy; and 
of Mr. Macpherson I once heard him speak respectfully, 
though his reply to the friend who asked him if any man 
living could have written such a book is well known, and 



and I beg your pardon.' I told this to Mrs. Thrale, with all the 
animation such a beautiful trait was calculated to inspire; and 
after she published her garbled account of it, I called upon her, 
reminded her of this circumstance, pointed out !o her how cha- 
racteristic an anecdote it was, of a man whose temper was harsh, 
but whose principles were charitable in the extreme, and who 
was, consequently, always in a state of repentance for imaginary 
injuries: I enjoined her, by the love of truth and justice, to pub- 
lish another edition of it, which she never did."— C] 



piozzi. 97 

has been often repeated: " Yes, sir; many men, many 
women, and many children." I inquired of hnn myself 
if this story was authentic, and he said it was. I made 
the same inquiry concerning his account of the state of 
literature in Scodand, which was repeated up and down 
at one time by everybody, — " How knowledge is divided 
among the Scots, like bread in a besieged town, to every 
man a mouthful, to no man a bellyful." This story he 
likewise acknowledged, and said besides, that " some offi- 
cious friend had carried it to Lord Bute, who only answer- 
ed, ' Well, well! never mind what he says — he will have 
the pension all one.' " 

127. Prospects. — Glasgow and Brentford. — View on the 
St. Lawrence. 

Another famous reply to a Scotsman who commended 
the beauty and dignity of Glasgow, till Mr. Johnson 
stopped him by observing, that " he probably had never 
yet seen Brentford," was one of the jokes he owned: and 
said himself, that " when a gentleman of that country 
once mentioned the lovely prospects common in his nation, 
he could not help telling him, tliat the view of the London 
road was the prospect in which every Scotsman most 
naturally and most rationally delighted." Mrs. Brook 
received an answer not unlike this, when expatiating on 
the accumulation of sublime and beautiful objects, which 
form the fine prospect up the river St. Lawrence in North 
America: — " Come, madam," says Dr. Johnson, " con- 
fess that nothing ever equalled your pleasure in seeing 
that sight reversed; and finding yourself looking at the 
happy prospect down the river St. Lawrence." 

128. Gardening. — Country Life. 

The truth is, he hated to hear about prospects and views, 
and laying out ground and taste in gardening: " That was 
the best garden," he said, " which produced most roots 
and fruits; and that water was most to be prized which 
contained most fish." He used to laugh at Shenstone 
most unmercifully for not caring whether there was any- 
thing good to eat in the streams he was so fond of; " as 
if," says Johnson, " one could fill one's belly with hearing 
7 



98 JOHNSONIANA. 

soft murmurs, or looking at rough cascades!" He loved 
the sight of fine forest trees, however, and detested Bright- 
helmstone Downs, " because it was a country so truly 
desolate," he said, " that if one had a mind to hang one's 
self for desperation at being obliged to live there, it would 
be difficult to find a tree on which to fasten the rope." 
Walking in a wood when it rained, was, I think, the only 
rural image he pleased his fancy with; " for," says he, 
" after one has gathered the apples in an orchard, one 
wishes them well baked, and removed to a London eating- 
house for enjoyment."* 

With such notions, who can wonder he passed his time 
uncomfortably enough witli us, whom he often complained 
of for living so much in the country; "feeding the chick- 
ens," as he said I did, " till I starved my own understand- 
ing. Get, however," said he, " a book about gardening, 
and study it hard, since you will pass your life with birds 
and flowers, and learn to raise the largest turnips, and to 
breed the biggest fowls." It was vain to assure him that 
the goodness of such dishes did not depend upon their size; 
he laughed at the people who covered their canals with 
foreign fowls, " when," says he, " our own geese and gan- 
ders are twice as large: if we fetched better animals from 
distant nations, there might be some sense in the preference; 
but to get cows from Alderney, or water-fowl from China, 
only to see nature degenerating round one, is a poor am- 
bition indeed." 

129. Amusements. 

Nor was Mr. Johnson more merciful with regard to the 
amusements people are contented to call such: " You hunt 
in the morning," says he, " and crowd to the public rooms 
at night, and call it diversion; when your heart knows it 
is perishing with poverty of pleasures, and your Avits get 
blunted for want of some other mind to sharpen them upon. 
There is in this world no real delight (excepting those of 
sensuality), but exchange of ideas in conversation; and who- 
ever has once experienced the full flow of London talk, 



♦ [This reminds one of Caraccioli's remark, that "the only 
fruit in England that ripened in the open air were apples, for they 
were roasted." — Fonnereau.J 



piozzi. 99 

when he retires to country friendships and rural sports, 
must either be contented to turn baby again and pkiy with 
the rattle, or he will pine away like a great fish in a little 
pond, and die for want of his usual food." 

130. Knowledge of Life. 

'' Books without the knowledge of life are useless," I 
have heard him say; " for Avhat should books teach but the 
art of living? To study manners however only in coffee- 
houses, is more than equally imperfect: the minds of men 
who acquire no solid learning, and only exist on the daily 
forage that they pick up by running about, and snatching 
what drops from their neighbours as ignorant as them- 
selves, Avill never ferment into any knowledge valuable or 
durable; but like the light wines Ave drink in hot countries, 
please for the moment though incapable of keeping. In 
the study of mankind much will be found to swim as froth, 
and much must sink as feculence, before the wine can have 
its effect, and become that noblest liquor which rejoices 
the heart, and gives vigour to the imagination." 

131. Disguise. 

Fear of what others may think, is the great cause of 
affectation; and he was not likely to disguise his notions 
out of cowardice. He hated disguise, and nobody pene- 
trated it so readily. I showed him a letter written to a 
common friend, who was at some loss for the explanation 
of it: " Whoever wrote it," says our Doctor, "could, if he 
chose it, make himself understood; but 'tis the letter of an 
embarrassed man, sir;'''' and so the event proved it to be. 

132. Mysteriousness. 

Mysteriousness in trifles offended him on every side: " it 
commonly ended in guilt," he said; " for those who begin 
by concealment of innocent things, will soon have some- 
thing to hide which they dare not bring to light." He 
therefore encouraged an openness of conduct, in women 
particularly, " who," he observed, " were often led away 
when children, by their delight and power of surprising." 

133. Superfluous Cunning. — Conferring Favours. 

He recommended, on something like the same principle, 



100 JOHNSONIANA. 

that when one person meant to serve another, he should 
not go about it slily, or, as we say, underhand, out of a 
false idea of delicacy, to surprise one's friend with an un- 
expected favour; "which, ten to one," says he, "fails 
to oblige your acquaintance, who had some reasons against 
such a mode of obligation, which you might have known 
but for that superfluous cunning which you think an 
elegance." 

" Oh! never be seduced by such silly pretences," con- 
tinued he; " if a wench wants a good gown, do not give 
her a fine smelling-bottle, because that is more delicate; 
as I once knew a lady lend the key of her library to a poor 
scribbling dependant, as if she took the woman for an 
ostrich, that could digest iron." He said, indeed, that 
" women were very difficult to be taught the proper man- 
ner of conferring pecuniary favours: that they always gave 
too much money or too little; for that they had an idea of 
delicacy accompanying their gifts, so that they generally 
rendered them either useless or ridiculous." 

134. General Sarcasms. 

He did indeed say very contemptuous things of our sex; 
but was exceedingly angry Avhen I told Miss Reynolds that 
he said, " It was well managed of some one to leave his 
affairs in the hands of his wife, because, in matters of 
business," said he, " no woman stops at integrity," This 
was, I think, the only sentence I ever observed him soli- 
citous to explain away after he had uttered it. 

He was not at all displeased at the recollection of a 
sarcasm thrown on a whole profession at once; when a 
gentleman leaving the company, somebody who sat next 
Dr. Johnson asked him, who he was? " I cannot exactly 
tell you, sir," replied he, " and I would be loath to speak 
ill of any person who I do not know deserves it, but I am 
afraid he is an attorney. ^^ He did not however encourage 
general satire, and for the most part professed himself to 
feel directly contrary to Dr. Swift; " who," says he, 
" hates the world, though he loves John and Robert, and 
certain individuals." Johnson said always, that " the 
world was well constructed, but that the particular people 
disgraced the elegance and beauty of the general fabric." 



piozzi. 101 



135. Needle-work. 



Needle-work has a strenuous approver in Dr. Johnson, 
who said, that "one of the great felicities of female life, 
was the general consent of the world, that they might 
amuse themselves with petty occupations, which contri- 
buted to the lengthening their lives, and preserving their 
minds in a state of sanity." " A man cannot hem a 
pocket-handkerchief," said a lady of quality to him one 
day, " and so he runs mad, and torments his family and 
friends." The expression struck him exceedingly; and 
when one acquaintance grew troublesome, and another 
unhealthy, he used to quote Lady Frances's* observation, 
that " a man cannot hem a pocket-handkerchief." 

136. '' Nice People:' 

The nice people found no mercy from Mr. Johnson; 
such I mean as can dine only at four o'clock, who cannot 
bear to be waked at an unusual hour, or miss a stated 
meal without inconvenience. He had no such prejudices 
himself, and with difficulty forgave them in another. 
" Delicacy does not surely consist," says he, " in im- 
possibility to be pleased, and that is false dignity indeed 
which is content to depend upon others." 

137. Conversation. 

The saying of the old philosopher, who observes, that 
"he who wants least is most like the gods, who want 
nothing," was a favourite sentence with Dr. Johnson; 
who on his own part required less attendance, sick or 
well, than ever I saw any human creature. Conversation 
was all he required to make him happy; and when he 
would have tea made at two o'clock in the morning, it 
was only that there might be a certainty of detaining his 
companions round him. On that principle it was that he 
preferred winter to summer, when the heat of the weather 
gave people an excuse to stroll about, and walk for plea- 
sure in the shade, while he wished to sit still on a chair, 
and chat day after day, till somebody proposed a drive in 
the coach; and that was the most delicious moment of his 

[* Lady Frances Burgoyne, daughter of ihe last Lord Halifax. — C] 



102 JOHNSONIANA. 

life. " But the carriage must stop sometime," as he said, 
" and the people would come home at last;" so his plea- 
sure was of short duration. 

138. Love of a Coach. 

I asked him why he doated on a coach so? and received 
for answer, that " in the first place, the company was shut 
in with him there; and could not escape, as out of a room: 
in the next place, he heard all that was said in a carriage, 
where it Avas my turn to be deaf:" and very impatient 
was he at my occasional difficulty of hearing. On this 
account he wished to travel all over the world; for the 
very act of going forward Avas delightful to him, and he 
gave himself no concern about accidents, which he said 
never happened: nor did the running away of the horses 
on the edge of a precipice between Vernon and St. Denys 
in France convince him to the contrary; " for nothing 
came of it," he said, " except that Mr. Thrale leaped out 
of the carriage into a chalk-pit, and then came up again, 
looking as white!'''' — when the truth was, all their lives 
were saved by the greatest providence ever exerted in 
favour of three human creatures; and the part Mr. Thrale 
took from desperation was the likeliest thing in the world 
to produce broken limbs and death. 

139. Fear. 

Fear was indeed a sensation to which Mr. Johnson was 
an utter stranger, excepting when some sudden appre- 
hension seized him that he was going to die; and even 
then he kept all his wits about him, to express the most 
humble and pathetic petitions to the Almighty: and when 
the first paralytic stroke took his speech from him, he in- 
stantly set about composing a prayer in Latin, at once to 
deprecate God's mercy, to satisfy himself that his mental 
powers remained unimpaired, and to keep them in exercise, 
that they might not perish by permitted stagnation.* 

When one day he had at my house taken tincture of 
antimony instead of emetic wine, for a vomit, he was him- 
self the person to direct us what to do for him, and managed 

* [See Boswell, vol. viii. p. 223.] 



piozzi. 103 

with as much coolness and deliberation, as if he had been 
prescribing for an indifferent person. 

Though on another occasion, when he had lamented in 
the most piercing terms his approaching dissolution, and 
conjured me solemnly to tell him what I thought, while 
Sir Richard Jebb was perpetually on the road to Streatham, 
and Mr. Johnson seemed to think himself neglected if the 
physician left him for an hour only, I made him a steady, 
but as I thought a very gentle harangue, in which I con- 
firmed all that the doctor had been saying, how no present 
danger could be expected; but that his age and continued 
ill health must naturally accelerate the arrival of that hour 
which can be escaped by none: "And this," says Johnson, 
rising in great anger, "is the voice of female friendship, I 
suppose, when the hand of the hangman would be softer!" 

Another day, when he was ill, and exceedingly low- 
spirited, and persuaded that death was not far distant, I 
appeared before him in a dark-coloured gown, which his 
bad sight and worse apprehensions made him mistake for 
an iron-gray. " Why do you delight," said he, " thus 
to thicken the gloom of misery that surrounds me? Is 
not here sufficient accumulation of horror Avithout antici- 
pated mourning?" " This is not mourning, sir," said I, 
drawing the curtain, that the light might fall upon the silk, 
and show it was a purple mixed with green. " Well, well," 
replied he, changing his voice, " you little creatures should 
never wear those sort of clothes, however; they are un- 
suitable in every way. What! have not all insects gay 
colours?" I relate these instances chiefly to show that the 
fears of death itself could not suppress his wit, his sagacity, 
or his temptation to sudden resentment. 

140. Don Quixote. 

"Alas, madam!" said he, one day, "how few books 
are there of which one ever can possibly arrive at the last 
page! Was there ever yet anything written by mere man 
that was wished longer by its readers, excepting Don 
Quixote, Robinson Crusoe, and the Pilgrim's Progress?" 
After Homer's Iliad, Mr. Johnson confessed that the work 
of Cervantes was the greatest in the world, speaking of it 
I mean as a book of entertainment. 



104 JOHNSONIANA. 

141. French Literature. 

Dr. Johnson was a great reader of French literature, and 
delighted exceedingly in Boileau's works. Moliere I think 
he had hardly sufficient taste of; and he used to condemn 
me for prefering La Bruyere to the Due de Rochefoucault, 
" who," he said, " Avas the only gentleman writer who 
wrote like a professed author." 

142. Life of a Sailor. 

" The life of a sailor was also a continued scene of dan- 
ger and exertion," he said, " and the manner in which 
time was spent on shipboard would make all who saw a 
cabin envy a gaol." The roughness of the language used 
on board a man-of-Avar, where he passed a week on a visit 
to Captain Knight, disgusted him terribly. He asked an 
officer Avhat some place was called, and received for answer, 
that it Avas Avhere the loploUy man kept his loplolly: a 
reply, he considered, not unjusdy, as disrespectful, gross, 
and iornorant: for though I have been led to mention Dr. 

to ' o 

Johnson's tenderness toAvards poor people, I do not Avish 
to mislead my readers, and make them think he had any 
delight in mean manners or coarse expressions. 

143. Dress. 

Even dress itself, when it resembled that of the vulgar, 
offended him exceedingly; and Avhen he had condemned me 
many times for not adorning my children with more show 
than I thought useful or elegant, I presented a little girl to 
him Avho came o'visiting one evening covered with shining 
ornaments, to see if he Avould approve of the appearance 
she made. When they Avere gone home, " Well, sir," 
said I, " hoAV did you like little miss? I hope she was 
fine enough." " It was the finery of a beggar," said he, 
" and you knoAV it Avas; she looked like a natiA'e of Cow 
Lane dressed up to be carried to Bartholomew fair." 

His reprimand to another lady for crossing her little 
child's handkerchief before, and by that operation dragging 
down its head oddly and unintentionally, Avas on the same 
principle. " It is the beggar's fear of cold," said he, " that 
prevails over such parents, and so they pull the poor thing's 
head down, and give it the look of a baby that plays about 



piozzi. 105 

Westminster Bridge, while the mother sits shivering in a 
niche.'''' 

It was indeed astonishing how he could remark such 
minuteness with a siglit so miserably imperfect; but no 
accidental position of a riband escaped him, so nice was 
his observation, and so rigorous his demands of propriety. 
When I went with him to Lichfield, and came down stairs 
to breakfast at the inn, my dress did not please him, and 
he made me alter it entirely before he would stir a step 
with us about the town, saying most satirical things con- 
cerning the appearance I made in a riding-habit; and adding, 
" 'Tis very strange that such eyes as yours cannot discern 
propriety of dress: if I had a sight only half as good, I 
think I should see to the centre." 

My compliances, however, were of little worth: what 
really surprised me was the victory he gained over a lady 
little accustomed to contradiction, who had dressed herself 
for church at Streatham one Sunday morning in a manner 
he did not approve, and to Avhom he said such sharp and 
pungent things concerning her hat, her gown, &c. that she 
hastened to change them, and returning quite another figure 
received his applause, and thanked him for his reproofs, 
much to the amazement of her husband, who could scarcely 
believe his own ears. 

Another lady, whose accomplishments he never denied, 
came to our house one day covered with diamonds, fea- 
thers, &c., and he did not seem inclined to chat with her 
as usual. I asked him why? when the company was 
gone. " Why; her head looked so like that of a woman 
who shows puppets," said he, " and her voice so con- 
firmed the fancy, that I could not bear her to-day: when 
she wears a large cap I can talk to her." 

When the ladies wore lace trimmings to their clothes, 
he expressed his contempt of the reigning fashion in these 
terms: — " A Brussels trimming is like bread sauce," said 
he; " it takes awa)'^ the glow of colour from the gown, and 
gives you nothing instead of it; but sauce was invented to 
heighten the flavour of our food, and trimming is an orna- 
ment to the manteau, or it is nothing. Learn," said he, 
" that there is propriety or impropriety in everything, how 
slight soever, and get at the general principles of dress and 



106 JOHNSONIANA. 

of behaviour; if you then transgress them, you will at 
least know that they are not observed." 

144. Mrs. PiozzVs Account of her JRupture with Mr. 
Johnson. 

All these exactnesses in a man who was nothing less 
than exact himself, made him extremely impracticable as 
an inmate, though most instructive as a companion, and 
useful as a friend. Mr. Thrale, too, could sometimes 
overrule his rigidity, by saying coldly, " There, there, 
now we have had enough for one lecture. Dr. Johnson; 
we will not be upon education any more till after dinner, 
if you please," — or some such speech: but when there 
was nobody to restrain his dislikes, it was extremely diffi- 
cult to find anybody witli whom he could converse, with- 
out living always on the verge of a quarrel, or of something 
too like a quarrel to be pleasing. 

I came into the room, for example, one evening, where 
he and a gentleman, whose abilities we all respect exceed- 
ingly, were sitting; a lady who walked in two minutes be- 
fore me had blown 'em both into a flame, by whispering 
something to Mr. Seward, which he endeavoured to ex- 
plain away, so as not to affront the Doctor, Avhose suspi- 
cions were all alive. " And have a care, sir," said he, 
just as I came in; " the Old Lion will not bear to be tic- 
kled." The other was pale with rage, the lady* wept at 
the confusion she had caused, and I could only say, with 
Lady Macbeth, — 

"You've displaced the mirth, broke the good meeting 
With most admired disorder." 

Such accidents, however, occurred too often, and I was 
forced to take advantage of my lost lawsuit, and plead 
inability of purse to remain longer in London or its vici- 
nage. I had been crossed in my intentions of going 
abroad, and found it convenient, for every reason of health, 

* The lady's name was Streatfield, as Mr. Seward told me. She 
was very handsome, and a good scholar; for she understood Greek. 
She was piqued at Mr. Seward's paying more attention to Dr. 
Johnson than to her; and oncoming in, whispered, " how his bark 
sat on his siomach;" alluding to the roughness which she sup- 
posed was in Dr. Johnson's conversation. — Malone MS. 



^ ?^^^^^^B 




piozzi. 107 

peace, and pecuniary circumstances, to retire to Bath, 
where I knew Mr. Johnson would not follow me, and 
where I could for that reason command some little portion 
of time for my own use; a thing impossible while I re- 
mained at Streatham or at London, as my liours, car- 
riag-e, and servants had long been at his command, who 
would not rise in the morning till twelve o'clock perhaps, 
and oblige me to make breakfast for him till the bell rang 
for dinner, though much displeased if the toilet was ne- 
glected, and though much of the time we passed together 
was spent in blaming or deriding, very justly, my neglect 
of economy, and waste of that money which might make 
many families happy. 

The original reason of our connection, his particularly 
disordered health and spirits, had been long at an end, 
and he had no other ailments than old age and general 
infirmity, which every professor of medicine was ardently 
zealous and generally attentive to palliate, and to con- 
tribute all in their power for the prolongation of a life so 
valuable. Veneration for his virtue, reverence for his 
talents, delight in his conversation, and habitual endurance 
of a yoke my husband first put upon me, and of which 
he contentedly bore his share for sixteen or seventeen 
years, made me go on so long with Mr. Johnson; but 
the perpetual confinement I will own to have been terrify- 
ing in the first years of our friendship, and irksome in the 
last; nor could I pretend to support it without help, when 
my coadjutor was no more. 

To the assistance we gave him, the shelter our house 
afforded to his uneasy fancies, and to the pains we took 
to soothe or repress them, the world perhaps is indebted 
for the three political pamphlets, the new edition and cor- 
rection of his Dictionary, and for the Poets' Lives, Avhich 
he would scarce have lived, I think, and kept his faculties 
entire, to have written, had not incessant care been exerted 
at the time of his first coming to be our constant guest in 
the country; and several times after that, when he found 
himself particularly oppressed with diseases incident to 
the most vivid and fervent imaginations. I shall for ever 
consider it as the greatest honour which could be conferred 
on any one, to have been the confidential friend of Dr. 
Johnson's health; and to have in some measure, with Mr, 



108 JOHNSONIAN A. 

Thrale's assistance, saved from distress at least, if not from 
worse, a mind great beyond the comprehension of common 
mortals, and good beyond all hope of imitation from perish- 
able beings. 

145. Character of Johnson. 

When Mr. Thrale built the new library at Streatham, 
and hung up over the books the portraits of his favourite 
friends, that of Dr. Johnson was last tinished, and closed 
the number. It was almost impossible not to make verses 
on such an accidental combination of circumstances, so I 
made the following ones: but, as a character written in 
verse will, for the most part, be found imperfect as a 
character, I have therefore written a prose one, with which 
I mean, not to complete, but to conclude these Anecdotes 
of the best and wisest man that ever came within the 
reach of my personal acquaintance, and I think I might 
venture to add, that of all or any of my readers: — 

"Gigantic in knowledge, in virtue, in strength, 
Our company closes with Johnson at length ; 
So the Greeks from the cavern of Polypheme pass'd, 
When wisest, and greatest, Ulysses came last. 
To his comrades contemptuous, we see him look down 
On their wit and their worth with a general frown. 
Since from Science' proud tree the rich fruit he receives, 
Who could shake the whole trunk while they turn"d a few 

leaves. 
His piety pure, his morality nice — 
Protector of virtue, and terror of vice; 
In these features Religion's firm champion display'd, 
Shall make infidels fear for a modern crusade. 
While th' inflammable temper, the positive tongue, 
Too conscious of right for endurance of wrong, 
We suffer from Johnson, contented to find, 
That some notice we gain from so noble a mind; 
And pardon our hurts, since so often we've found 
The balm of instruction pour'd into the wound. 
'Tis thus for its virtues the chemists extol 
Pure rectified spirit, sublime alcohol; 
From noxious putrescence, preservative pure, 
A cordial in health, and in sickness a cure; 
But exposed to the sun, taking fire at his rays, 
Burns bright to the bottom, and ends in a blaze." 

It is usual, I know not why, when a character is given, 
to begin with a description of the person; that which con- 
tained the soul of Mr. Johnson deserves to be particularly 



piozzi. 109 

described. His stature was remarkably high, and his 
limbs exceedingly large: his strength was more than com- 
mon, I believe, and his activity had been greater, I have 
heard, than such a form gave one reason to expect: his 
features were strongly marked, and his countenance par- 
ticularly rugged; though the original complexion had cer- 
tainly been fair, a circumstance somewhat imusual; his 
sight was near, and otherwise imperfect; yet his eyes, 
though of a light gray colour, were so wild, so piercing, 
and at times so fierce, that fear was, I believe, the first 
emotion in the hearts of all his beholders. His mind was 
so comprehensive, that no language but that he used could 
have expressed its contents; and so ponderous was his 
language, that sentiments less lofty and less solid than his 
were, Avould have been encumbered, not adorned by it. 

Mr. Johnson Avas not intentionally, however, a pompous 
converser; and though he was accused of using big words, 
as they are called, it was only when little ones would not 
express his meaning as clearly, or when perhaps the ele- 
vation of the thought would have been disgraced by a dress 
less superb. He used to say, that " the size of a man's 
understanding might always be justly measured by his 
mirth;" and his own was never contemptible. He Avould 
laugh at a stroke of genuine humour, or sudden sally of odd 
absurdity, as heartily and freely as I ever yet saw any man; 
and though the jest was often such as few felt besides him- 
self, yet his laugh was irresistible, and was observed im- 
mediately to produce that of the company, not merely from 
the notion that it was proper to laugh when he did, but pure- 
ly out of want of power to forbear it. He was no enemy 
to splendour of apparel or pomp of equipage — " Life," he 
would say, " is barren enough surely with all her trappings; 
let us therefore be cautious how we strip her." In matters 
of still higher moment he once observed, when speaking 
on the subject of sudden innovation, — " He who plants a 
forest may doubtless cut down a hedge; yet I could wish, 
methinks, that even he would wait till he sees his young 
plants grow." 

With regard to common occurrences, Mr. Johnson had, 
when I first knew him, looked on the still-shifting scenes 
of life till he was weary; for as a mind slow in its own 
nature, or unenlivened by information, will contentedly 



110 JOHNSONIANA. 

read in the same book for twenty times perhaps, the very 
act of reading it being more than half the business, and 
every period being at every reading better understood; 
while a mind more active or more skilful to comprehend 
its meaning is made sincerely sick at the second perusal: 
so a soul like his, acute to discern the truth, vigorous to 
embrace, and powerful to retain it, soon sees enough of 
the world's dull prospect, which at first, like that of the 
sea, pleases by its extent, but soon, like that, too, fatigues 
from its uniformity; a calm and a storm being the only 
variations that the nature of either will admit. 

Of Mr. Johnson's erudition the world has been the 
judge, and we who produce each a score of his sayings, as 
proofs of that wit which in him was inexhaustible, re- 
semble travellers who, having visited Delhi or Golconda, 
bring home each a handful of Oriental pearl to evince the 
riches of the Great Mogul. May the public condescend 
to accept my ill-strung selection with patience at least, 
remembering only that they are relics of him Avho was 
great on all occasions; and, like a cube in architecture, you 
beheld him on each side, and his size still appeared undi- 
minished. 

As his purse was ever open to almsgiving, so was his 
heart tender to those who wanted relief, and his soul sus- 
ceptible of gratitude, and of every kind impression; yet 
though he had refined his sensibility, he had not endan- 
gered his quiet by encouraging in himself a solicitude about 
trifles, Avhich he treated with the contempt they deserve. 

It was well enough known before these sheets were 
published, that Mr. Johnson had a roughness in his man- 
ner which subdued the saucy, and terrified the meek: this 
was, when I knew him, the prominent part of a charac- 
ter which few durst venture to approach so nearly; and 
which was, for that reason, in many respects, grossly and 
frequently mistaken; and it was perhaps peculiar to him, 
that the lofty consciousness of his own superiority, which 
animated his looks, and raised his voice in conversation, 
cast likewise an impenetrable veil over him when he said 
nothing. His talk therefore had commonly the complexion 
of arrogance, his silence of superciliousness. He was, 
however, seldom inclined to be silent when any moral or 
literary question was started: and it was on such occa- 



PIOZZI. Ill 

sions, that, like the sage in Rasselas, he spoke, and atten- 
tion watched his lips; he reasoned, and conviction closed 
his periods: if poetry was talked of, his quotations were 
the readiest; and had he not been eminent for more solid 
and brilliant qualities, mankind would have united to extol 
his extraordinary memory. His manner of repeating de- 
serves to be described, though, at the same time, it defeats 
all power of description; but whoever once heard him 
repeat an ode of Horace, would be long before they could 
endure to hear it repeated by another. 

His equity in giving the character of living acquaint- 
ance ought not undoubtedly to be omitted in his own, 
whence partiality and prejudice were totally excluded, and 
truth alone presided in his tongue: a steadiness of conduct 
the more to be commended, as no man had stronger likings 
or aversions. His veracity Avas, indeed, from the most 
ti'ivial to the most solemn occasions, strict, even to seve- 
rity; he scorned to embellish a story with fictitious cir- 
cumstances, which, he used to say, took off from its real 
value. " A story," says Johnson, " should be a specimen 
of life and manners; but if the surrounding circumstances 
are false, as it is no more a representation of reality, it is 
no longer worthy our attention." 

For the rest, — that beneficence which, during his life, 
increased the comforts of so many, may after his death be 
perhaps ungratefully forgotten; but that piety which dic- 
tated the serious papers in the Rambler, will be for ever 
remembered; — for ever, I think, revered. That ample 
repository of religious truth, moral wisdom, and accurate 
criticism, breathes indeed the genuine emanations of its 
great author's mind, expressed too in a style so natural to 
him, and so much like his common mode of conversing, 
that I was myself but little astonished when he told me, 
that he had scarcely read over one of those inimitable essays 
before they went to the press. 

I will add one or two peculiarities more, before I lay 
down my pen. Though at an immeasurable distance from 
content in the contemplation of his own uncouth form and 
figure, he did not like another man much the less for being 
a coxcomb. I mentioned two friends Avho were particu- 
larly fond of looking at themselves in a glass: " They do 
not surprise me at all by so doing," said Johnson: " they 



112 JOHNSONIANA. 

see, reflected in that glass, men who have risen from al- 
most the lowest situations in life; one to enormous riches, 
the other to everything this world can give — rank, fame, 
and fortime. They see, likewise, men who have merited 
their advancement by the exertion and improvement of 
those talents which God had given them; and I see not 
why they should avoid the mirror." 

The other singularity I promised to record is this: that 
though a man of obscure birth himself, his partiality to 
people of family was visible on every occasion; his zeal 
for subordination warm even to bigotry; his hatred to in- 
novation, and reverence for the old feudal times, apparent, 
whenever any possible manner of showing them occurred. 
I have spoken of his piety, his charity, and his truth, the 
enlargement of his heart, and the delicacy of his sentiments; 
and when I search for shadow to my portrait, none can I 
find but Avhat was formed by pride, differently modified as 
different occasions showed it; yet never was pride so puri- 
fied as Johnson's, at once from meanness and from vanity. 
The mind of this man was indeed expanded beyond the 
common limits of human nature, and stored with such va- 
riety of knowledge, that I used to think it resembled a 
royal pleasure-ground, where every plant, of every name 
and nation, flourished in the full perfection of their powers; 
and where, though lofty woods and falling cataracts first 
caught the eye, and fixed the earliest attention of behold- 
ers, yet neither the trim parterre nor the pleasing shrub- 
bery, nor even the antiquated evergreens, were denied a 
place in some fit corner of the happy valley. 

{The folloiving Anecdotes, Opinions, cmd Reflections are 
from the Collection of Dr. Johnson's Letters, published 
by Mrs. Piozzi, in 1788.] 

146. Domestic Tragedies. 

What is nearest us touches us most. The passions rise 
higher at domestic than at imperial tragedies. 

147. Calamities. 

When any calamity is suffered, the first thing to be re- 
membered is, how much has been escaped. 



113 



148. Grief. 

Grief is a species of idleness; antl the necessity of atten- 
tion to the present preserves us, by the merciful disposition 
of Providence, from being lacerated and devoured by sor- 
row for the past. 

149. Vows. 

All unnecessary vows are folly, because they suppose a 
prescience of the future which has not been given us. 
They are, I think, a crime, because they resign that life to 
chance, which God has given us to be regulated by rea- 
son; and superinduce a kind of fatuity, from which it is 
the great privilege of our nature to be free. I think an un- 
limited promise of acting by the opinion of another so 
wrong, that nothing, or hardly anything, can make it right. 

150. Filial Obedience. 

Unlimited obedience is due only to the Universal Father 
of heaven and earth. My parents may be mad or foolish; 
may be wicked and malicious; may be erroneously reli- 
gious, or absurdly scrupulous. I am not bound to com- 
pliance with mandates, either positive or negative, which 
either religion condemns or reason rejects. 

There wanders about the world a wild notion, Avhich 
extends over marriage more than over any other transaction. 
If Miss **** followed a trade, would it be said that she was 
bound in conscience to give or refuse credit at her father's 
choice? And is not marriage a thing in which she is more 
interested, and has therefore more right of choice? When 
I may suffer for my own crimes, when I may be sued for 
my own debts, I may judge, by parity of reason, for my 
own happiness. 

151. To-morrow. 

You do not tell me whither the young lovers are gone. 
What a life do they image in futurity! how unlike to what 
they are to find. But To-morrow is an old deceiver, and 
his cheat never grows stale. 

152. Praise and Flattery. 
The difference between praise and flattery is the same 



114 JOHNSONIANA. 

as between that hospitality that sets wine enough before 
the guest, and that which forces him to be drunk. 

153. Travellers and Books of Travels. 

He that wanders about the world sees new forms of hu- 
man misery; and if he chances to meet an old friend, meets 
a face darkened by troubles. You have often heard me 
complain of finding myself disappointed by books of travels. 
I am afraid travel itself will end likewise in disappointment. 
One town, one country, is very like another: civilized 
nations have the same customs, and barbarous nations have 
the same nature: there are indeed minute discriminations 
both of places and manners, which, perhaps, are not want- 
ing of curiosity, but which a traveller seldom stays long 
enough to investigate and compare. The dull utterly 
neglect them; the acute see a little, and supply the rest 
with fancy and conjecture. 

1 54. Use of Travelling. 

The use of travelling is to regulate imagination by reality, 
and, instead of thinking how things may be, to see them 
as they are. 

155. Principles. 

Principles can only be strong by the strength of under- 
standing, or the cogency of religion. 

156. Dr. Cheyne. — Burton. 

" All is best," says Cheyne, " as it has been, excepting 
the errors of our own free will." Burton concludes his 
long book upon melancholy with this important precept: — 
" Be not solitary; be not idle." Remember Cheyne's po- 
sition, and observe Burton's precept. 

157. Compliments. 

Do not make speeches to your country friends. Un- 
usual compliments, to which there is no stated and pre- 
scriptive answer, embarrass the feeble, who know not what 
to say, and disgust the wise, who, knowing them to be 
false, suspect them to be hypocritical. 



Piozzi. 115 

158. Seeing Shows. 

It is easy to talk of sitting at home contented, when 
others are seeing or making shows. But not to have 
been where it is supposed that all would go if they could; 
to be able to say nothing when every one is talking; to 
have no opinion where every one is judging; to hear 
exclamations of rapture without power to depress; to 
listen to falsehoods without right to contradict, is, after 
all, a state of temporary inferiority, in which the mind 
is rather hardened by stubbornness, than supported by 
fortitude. 

159. Mingling with the World. 

If the world be worth winning, let us enjoy it; if it is to 
be despised, let us despise it by conviction. But the world 
is not to be despised, but as it is compared with something 
better. Company is in itself better than solitude, and 
pleasure better than indolence. Ex nihilo nihil Jit, says 
the moral as well as natural philosopher. By doing nothino-, 
and by knowing nothing, no power of doing good can be 
obtained. He must mingle with the world that desires to 
be useful. Every new scene comprises new ideas, en- 
riches the imagination, and enlarges the powers of reason, 
by new topics of comparison. 

160. Disappointment. 

All pleasure preconceived and preconcerted ends in dis- 
appointment; but disappointment, when it involves neither 
shame nor loss, is as good as success; for it supplies as 
many images to the mind, and as many topics to the 
tongue. 

161. Bright and cloudy Days. 

Most men have their bright and their cloudy days; at 
least, they have days when they put their powers into act, 
and days when they suffer them to repose. 

162. Keeping a Diary. 

Do not remit the practice of writing down occurrences 
as they arise, of whatever kind, and be very punctual in 
annexing the dates. Chronology, you know, is the eye 



116 JOHNSONIANA. 

of history; and every man's life is of importance to him- 
self. Do not omit painful casualties, or unpleasing pas- 
sages, they make the variegation of existence; and there 
are many transactions, of which I will not premise, with 
iEneas, et hsec olim meminisse jiwabit; — yet that re- 
membrance which is not pleasant may be useful. There 
is, however, an intemperate attention to slight circum- 
stances which is to be avoided, lest a great part of life 
be spent in writing the history of the rest. Every day, 
perhaps, has something to be noted; but in a settled and 
uniform course few days can have much. 

163. Camps. 

A camp, however familiarly we may speak of it, is one 
of the great scenes of human life. War and peace divide 
the business of the world. Camps are the habitations of 
those who conquer kingdoms, or defend them. 

164. .flffliction. 

To grieve for evils is often wrong; but it is much more 
wrong to grieve without them. All sorrow that lasts 
longer than its cause is morbid, and should be shaken off 
as an attack of melancholy, as the forerunner of a greater 
evil than poverty or pain. 

1 65. Weariness. — Labour. — Exercise. 

Weariness is itself a temporary resolution of the nerves, 
and is therefore to be avoided. Labour is exercise, con- 
tinued to fatigue. Exercise is labour, used only while it 
produces pleasure. 

166. '■'■ Nil admirari.'''' 

Horace says, that " Nil admirari" is the only thing 
that can make or keep a man happy. It is, with equal 
truth, the only thing that can keep a man honest. The 
desire of fame, not regulated, is as dangerous to virtue as 
that of money. 

167. Religious Education. 

It has happened to , as to many active and pros- 
perous men, that his mind has been wholly absorbed in 



piozzi. 117 

business, or at intervals dissolved in amusement; and 
habituated so long to certain modes of employment or 
diversion, that in the decline of life it can no more receive 
a new train of images, than the hand can acquire dexterity 
in a new mechanical operation. For this reason a religious 
education is so necessary. Spiritual ideas may be recol- 
lected in old age, but can hardly be acquired. 

168. Critics. 

Never let criticisms operate upon your face or your 
mind: it is very rarely that an author is hurt by his critics. 
The blaze of reputation cannot be blown out, but it often 
dies in the socket: a very few names may be considered as 
perpetual lamps that shine unconsumed. 

169. Seat in Parliament. 

It would be with great discontent that I should see Mr. 
Thrale decline the representation of the Borough. To sit 
in parliament for Southwark is the highest honour that his 
station permits him to attain; and his ambition to attain it 
is rational and laudable. I Avill not say that for an honest 
man to struggle for a vote in the legislature, at a time when 
honest votes are so much wanted, is absolutely a duty; but 
it is surely an act of virtue. The expense, if it was more, 
I should wish him to despise. Money is made for such 
purposes as this. 

170. Sorrow. 

There is no wisdom in useless and hopeless sorrow; but 
there is something in it so like virtue, that he who is wholly 
without it cannot be loved, nor will, by me at least, be 
thought worthy of esteem. 

171. Kindness. — Compassion. 

The world is not so unjust or unkind as it is peevishly 
represented. Those who deserve well seldom fail to re- 
ceive from others such services as they can perform; but 
few have much in their power, or are so stationed as to 
have great leisure from their own affairs; and kindness 
must be commonly the exuberance of content. The 
wretched have no compassion; they can do good only 
from strong principles of duty. 



118 JOHNSONIANA. 

172. Anonymous Authors. 

I have been at Lichfield persecuted with solicitations to 
read a poem; but I sent the author word, that I would 
never review the work of an anonymous author: for why 
should I put my name in the power of one who will 
not trust me with his own? With this answer Lucy was 
satisfied; and I think it may satisfy all whom it may 
concern. 

173. Hyperbolical Praise. 

Do not flatter. Cool reciprocations of esteem are the 
great comforts of life: hyperbolical praise only corrupts 
the tongue of the one, and the ear of the other. 

174. Computation. 

Nothing amuses more harmlessly than computation, and 
nothing is oftener applicable to real business or speculative 
inquiries. A thousand stories which the ignorant tell, and 
believe, die away at once when the computist takes them in 
his gripe. Cultivate in yourself a disposition to numerical 
inquiries: they will give you entertainment in solitude by 
the practice, and reputation in public by the effect. 

175. Female Gluttony. 

Gluttony is less common among women than among 
men. Women commonly eat more sparingly, and are 
less curious in the choice of meat; but, if once you find 
a woman gluttonous, expect from her very little virtue. 
Her mind is enslaved to the lowest and grossest temptation. 

176. Nature. — Human Life. 

Take all opportunities of filling your mind with genuine 
scenes of nature. Description is always fallacious; at 
least, till you have seen realities, you cannot know it to 
be true. This observation might be extended to life; but 
life cannot be surveyed with the same safety as nature; 
and it is better to know vice and folly by report than by 
experience. A painter, says Sydney, mingled in the battle, 
that he might know how to paint it; but his knowledge was 
useless, for some mischievous sword took away his head. 



piozzi. 119 

They whose speculation upon characters leads them too 
far into the world, may lose that nice sense of good and 
evil by which characters are to be tried. Acquaint your- 
self, therefore, both with the pleasing and the terrible parts 
of nature; but, in life, Avish to know only the good. 

177. Mrs. Porter, the Tragedian. 

Mrs. Porter Avas so much the favourite of her time, that 
she was welcomed on the stage when she trod it by the 
help of a stick. She taught her pupils no violent graces; 
for she was a woman of very gentle and lady-like manners, 
though Avithout much extent of knowledge, or activity of 
understanding. 

178. Dictionaries. 

Dictionaries are like watches; the worst is better than 
none, and the best cannot be expected to go quite true. 

179. Mtention 

Endeavour to reform that instability of attention which 
you have lately betrayed. Perhaps it is natural for those 
that have much within to think little on things Avithout; 
but whoever lives heedlessly lives but in a mist, perpetu- 
ally deceived by false appearances of the past, without any 
certain reliance or recollection. 

180. Initials. 

I have a letter signed S. A. Thrale. I take S. A. to be 
Miss Sophy: but Avho is bound to recollect initials? A 
name should be Avritten, if not fully, yet so that it cannot 
be mistaken. 

181. Old Friendships. 

Those that have loved longest love best. A sudden 
blaze of kindness may, by a single blast of coldness, be 
extinguished; but that fondness which length of time has 
connected Avith many circumstances and occasions, though 
it may for a while be suppressed by disgust or resentment, 
with or without a cause, is hourly revived by accidental 
recollection. To those that have lived long together, every 
thing heard and everything seen, recalls some pleasure 



120 JOHNSONIANA. 

communicated, or some benefit conferred, some petty quar- 
rel, or some slight endearment. Esteem of great powers, 
or amiable qualities newly discovered, may embroider a 
day or a week; but a friendship of twenty years is inter- 
woven with the texture of life. A friend may be often found 
and lost; but an old friend never can be found, and nature 
has provided that he cannot easily be lost. 

182. Death. 

The frequency of death, to those who look upon it in 
the leisure of Arcadia, is very dreadful. We all know 
what it should teach us; let us all be diligent to learn. 

183. Incommunicative Taciturnity. 

Incommunicative taciturnity neither imparts nor invites 
friendship, but reposes on a stubborn sufficiency, self-cen- 
tered, and neglects the interchange of that social officious- 
ness by which we are habilUally endeared to one another. 
They that mean to make no use of friends will be at little 
trouble to gain them; and to be without friendship is to be 
without one of the first comforts of our present state. To 
have no assistance from other minds, in resolving doubts, 
in appeasing scruples, in balancing deliberations, is a very 
wretched destitution. 

184. Purposes. 

Life, to be worthy of a fational being, must be always 
in progression: Ave must always purpose to do more or 
better than in past time. The mind is enlarged and ele- 
vated by mere purposes, though they end as they begin, by 
airy contemplation. We compare and judge, though we 
do not practise. 

185. Visitors. — Domestic Companions. 

Visitors are no proper companions in the chamber of 
sickness. They come when I could sleep or read; they 
stay till I am Aveary; they force me to attend Avhen my 
mind calls for relaxation, and to speak when my powers 
will hardly actuate my tongue. The amusements and 
consolations of languor and depression are conferred by 
familiar and domestic companions, which can be visited or 



Piozzi. 121 

called at will, and can occasionally be quitted or dismissed; 
who do not obstruct accommodation by ceremony, or de- 
stroy indolence by awakening effort. 

186. Hannah Move's ''Bas Bleu." 

Miss More has Avritten a poem called " Le Bas Bleu," 
which is, in my opinion, a very great performance. It 
wanders about in manuscript, and surely will soon find its 
way to Bath. 

187. Attention and Respect. 

I have noAV (Dec. 31, 1783) in the house pheasant, 
venison, turkey, and ham, all unbought. Attention and 
respect give pleasure, however late or however useless. 
But they are not useless when they are late: it is reason- 
able to rejoice, as the day declines, to find that it has been 
spent with the approbation of mankind. 

188. Talk of the Sick. 

The first talk of the sick is commonly of themselves; 
but if they talk of nothing else, they cannot complain if 
they are soon left without an audience. 

189. " The Rambler," in Russian. 

The chaplain of the factory at Petersburg relates, that 
"The Rambler" is now, by the command of the Empress, 
translating into Russian;* and has promised Avhen it is 
printed to send me a copy. Grant, O Lord! that all who 
shall read my pages may become more obedient to thy 
laws; and when the wretched writer shall appear before 
thee, extend thy mercy to him, for the sake of Jesus 
Christ. 

190. Confidence with respect to Futurity. 

I never thought confidence with respect to futurity any 
part of the character of a brave, a wise, or a good man. 
Bravery has no place where it can avail nothing; wisdom 

* [" I have since heard that the report was not well founded; 
but the elation discovered by Johnson, in the belief that it was 
true, showed a noble ardour for literary fame." — Boswell, vol. 
viii. p. 274.] 



122 JOHNSONIANA. 

impresses strongly the consciousness of those faults, of 
which it is itself perhaps an aggravation; and goodness, 
always wishing to be better, and imputing every deficience 
to criminal negligence, and every fault to vohmtary cor- 
ruption, never dares to suppose the condition of forgiveness 
fulfilled, nor what is wanting in the crime supplied by 
penitence. This is the state of the best; but what must be 
the condition of him whose heart will not suffer him to 
rank himself among the best, or among the good? Such 
must be his dread of the approaching trial, as will leave 
him litde attention to the opinion of those whom he is leav- 
ing for ever; and the serenity that is not felt, it can be no 
virtue to feign. 

191. " Dying ivith a Grace." 

Write to me no more about dying with a grace! When 
you feel what I have felt in approaching eternity, in fear of 
soon hearing the sentence of which there is no revocation, 
you will know the folly: my wish is, that you may know 
it sooner. The distance between the grave and the re- 
motest point of human longevity, is but very little; and of 
that litde no path is certain. You knew all this, and I 
thought that I knew it too; but I know it now with a new 
conviction. May that new conviction not be vain! 

192. "Irene." — ''Cato." — ''Fair Penitent." 

Dr. Johnson was no complainer of ill. I never heard 
him even lament the disregard shown to " Irene," which, 
however, was a violent favourite with him; and much was 
he offended when, having asked me once, " What single 
scene afforded me most pleasure of all our tragic drama," 
I, litde thinking of his play's existence, named, perhaps 
with hasty impropriety, " the dialogue between Syphax 
and Juba, in Addison's ' Cato.' " " Nay, nay," replied 
he, " if you are for declamation, I hope my two Jadies 
have the better of them all." This piece, however, lay 
dormant many years, shelfed (in the manager's phrase) 
from the time Mr. Peter Garrick presented it first on 
Fleetwood's table, to the hour when his brother David 
obtained due influence on the theatre, on which it crawled 
through nine nights, supported by cordials, but never 
obtained popular applause. I asked him then to name a 



piozzi. 123 

better scene; he pitched on that between Horatio and 
Lothario, in Rowe's " Fair Penitent;" but Mr. Murphy- 
showed him afterwards that it was borrowed from Mas- 
singer, and had not the merit of originality. 

193. Profession of an Actor. — Garrick. — Mrs. Siddons. 

It is well known that Johnson despised the profession of 
an actor. When Garrick was talked of as candidate for 
admission into the Literary Club, many years ago, — " If 
he does apply," says the Doctor to Mr. Thrale, " I'll 
blackball him." " Who, sir? Mr. Garrick, your friend, 
your companion, — blackball him!" " Why, sir, I love 
my little David dearly; better than all or any of his 
flatterers do; but surely one ought to sit in a society like 
ours — 

' Unelbovv'd by a gamester, pimp, or player.' " 

In spite of this ill-founded contempt, he persuaded him- 
self to treat Mrs. Siddons with great politeness; and said, 
when she called on him at Bolt Court, and Frank could 
not immediately provide her with a chair, " You see, 
madam, wherever you go there are no seats to be got." 

194. Johnson'' s last Illness and Death. 

Dr. Johnson was once angry with his friend Dr. Taylor 
of Ashbourne, for recommending to him a degree of tem- 
perance by which alone his life could have been saved, 
and recommending it in his own unaltered phrase too, 
with praiseworthy intentions to impress it more forcibly. 
This quarrel, however, if quarrel it might be called, which 
was mere suUenness on one side and sorrow on the other, 
soon healed of itself, mutual reproaches having never been 
permitted to widen the breach, and supply, as is the com- 
mon practice among coarser disputants, the original and 
perhaps almost forgotten cause of dispute. After some 
weeks, Johnson sent to request the sight of his old com- 
panion, whose feeble health held him away for some weeks 
more, and who, Avhen he came, urged that feebleness as 
an excuse for appearing no sooner at the call of friendship 
in distress; but Johnson, who was then, as he expressed 
it, not sick but dying, told him a story of a lady, who 
many years before lay expiring in such tortures as that 



134 JOHNSONIANA. 

cruel disease, a cancer, naturally produces, and begged the 
conversation of her earliest intimate to soothe the incredible 
sufferings of her body, and relieve the approaching terrors 
of her mind: but what was the friend's apology for ab- 
sence? " Oh, my dear," said she, " I have really been so 
plagued and pained of late by a nasty whitlow, that indeed 
it was quite impossible for me till to-day to attend my 
Lucy's call." I think this was not more than two days 
before his dissolution. 

Some Lichfield friends fancied that he had half a mind 
to die where he was born, but that the hope of being 
buried in Westminster Abbey overpoAvered the inclination; 
but Mr. Johnson loved London, and many people then in 
London, whom I doubt not he sincerely wished to see 
again, particularly Mr. Sastres, for whose person some of 
his letters manifest a strong affection, and of whose talents 
I have often heard him speak with great esteem. That 
gentleman has told me, that his fears of death ended with 
his hope of recovery, and that the latter days of his life 
passed in calm resignation to God's will, and a firm trust 
in his mercy. 

He burned many letters in the last week, I am told; and 
those written by his mother drew from him a flood of tears, 
when the paper they were written on was all consumed. 
Mr. Sastres saw him cast a melancholy look upon their 
ashes, which he took up and examined, to see if a word 
was still legible. Nobody has ever mentioned what be- 
came of Miss Aston's letters, though he once told me him- 
self, they should be the last papers he would destroy, and 
added these lines Avith a very faltering voice: — 

" Then from his closing eye thy form shall part, 
And the last pang shall tear thee from his heart; 
Life's idle business at one gasp be o'er, 
The Muse forgot, and thou be loved no more." 

And noAv (concludes Mrs. Piozzi) Avhat remains? after 
having viewed the letters of a dead friend, whose lips 
while living breathed sentences of instruction, surpassed by 
those of no t<n-inspired teacher, and whose writings called 
in elegance to adorn, and erudition to engrave those pre- 
cepts; whose life passed in the practice of refined morality, 
ending in a death which attested the purest faith; what 



piozzi. 125 

remains but to reflect, that by that death no part of Johnson 
perished which had power by form to recommend his real 
excellence; nothing that did not disgrace the soul which 
it contained: like some fine statue, the boast of Greece 
and Rome, plastered up into deformity, while casts are pre- 
paring from it to improve students, and diff'use the know- 
ledge of its merit; but dazzling only with complete per- 
fection, Avhen the gross and awkAvard covering is removed. 

195. Rape of the Lock. 

Dr. Johnson says of Pope, " He has a few double 
rhymes; but always, I think, unsuccessfully, except once 
in the Rape of the Lock." 

" The meeting points the fatal lock dissever 
From the fair head — for ever and for ever," — 

was the couplet Johnson meant, for I asked him. 

196. Streatham Gallery. 

The following is a list of the prices which the Streatham 
collection of portraits, by Sir Joshua Reynolds, brought at 
auction in May, 1816: — 





£. 


5. 


d. 


Purchased by 


Lord Sandys 


36 


15 





Lady Downshire; his heir. 


Lord Lyttleton 


43 


1 





Mr. Lyttleton; his son. 


Mrs. Piozzi - 


81 


18 





S. Boddington, Esq. a rich mer- 
chant. 


Goldsmith - 


133 


7 





Duke of Bedford. 


Sir J. Reynolds - 


123 


2 





R. Sharp, Esq. of Park Lane. 


Sir R. Chambers 


84 








Lady Chambers; his widow. 


David Garrick 


183 


15 





Dr. Charles Burney, Greenwich. 


Baretti 


31 


10 





— Stewart, Esq.: I know not who. 


Dr. Burney 


64 








Dr. C. Burney, of Greenwich, 
his son. 


Edmund Burke - 


252 








R. Sharp, Esq. 


Dr. Johnson 


378 








Watson Taylor, Esq.— H.L.P.* 



* [Dr. Johnson's— infinitely the finest of these portraits, as a 
work of art, and second not even to Mr. Burke's as an object of 
national interest — passed, at Mr. Watson Taylor's sale, into the 
hands of Sir Robert Peel.] 



126 JOHNSONIANA. 



Part II. 

ANECDOTES AND SAYINGS OF JOHNSON. 
SELECTED FROM HAWKINS.* 

197. Portable Books. 

Dr. Johnson used to say, that no man read long together 
with a folio on his table. " Books," said he, " that you 
may carry to the fire, and hold readily in your hand, are 
the most useful after all." He would say, " such books 
form the mass of general and easy reading," He was a 
great friend to books like the French '■'■Esprits cVun tel;" 
for example, '■'^ Beauties of Watts,'''' &:c. &c.: " at Avhich," 
said he, " a man will often look and be tempted to go on, 
when he would have been frightened at books of a larger 
size, and of a more erudite appearance. 

198. Conversation. 

He had a great opinion of the knowledge procured by 
conversation with intelligent and ingenious persons. His 
first question concerning such as had that character was 
ever, " What is his conversation?" 

198. Christian Religion. 
The Duke of * * * t once said to Johnson, that " every 

♦ [Sir John Hawkins published, in 1787, his Life of Johnson; 
and, in the same year, superintended an edition of the Doctor's 
Works, in eleven volumes octavo. From these publications the 
present selection has been made.] 

t [The Due de Chaulnes. Seejposf, No. 399.] 



HAWKINS. 127 

religion had a certain degree of morality in it." " Ay, 
my lord," answered he, " but the Christian religion alone 
puts it on its proper basis." 

200. Learned Ladies. — Mrs. Carter. 

He used to say something tantamount to this: When a 
woman affects learning, she makes a rivalry between the 
two sexes for the same accomplishments, which ought not 
to be, their provinces being different. Milton said before 
him, — 

" For contemplation he and valour form'd, 
For softness she and sweet attractive grace." 

And upon hearing a lady of his acquaintance commended 
for her learning, he said, " A man is in general better 
pleased when he has a good dinner upon his table than 
when his wife talks Greek. My old friend, Mrs. Carter," 
he added, " could make a pudding as well as translate 
Epictetus from the Greek, and work a handkerchief as 
well as compose a poem." He thought, however, that she 
was too reserved in conversation upon subjects she was so 
eminently able to converse upon, which was occasioned by 
her modesty and fear of giving offence. 

201. Rising in the World. — Foote. 

When some one was lamenting Foote's unlucky fate in 
being kicked, in Dublin, Johnson said he was glad of it. 
"He is rising in the world," said he: "when he was in 
England, no one thought it worth while to kick him." 

202. Precepts and Practice. 

To a person, who once said he paid little regard to 
those writers on religion or morality whose practice corre- 
sponded not with their precepts, he imputed a want of 
knowledge of mankind; saying, it was gross ignorance in 
him not to know, that good principles and an irregular 
life were consistent with each other. 

203. Volubility. 

Of a member of parliament, who, after having ha- 
rangued for some hours in the House of Commons, came 
into a company where Johnson was, and endeavoured to 



128 JOHNSONIANA. 

talk him down, he said, " This man has a pulse in his 
tongue." 

204. Equality. — Mrs. Macaulay. 

Dr. Johnson and Dr. Svimner, of Harrow, were dining 
one day, with many other persons, at Mrs. Macaulay's.* 
She had talked a long time at dinner about the natural 
equality of mankind. Johnson, when she had finished her 
harangue, rose up from the table, and with great solemnity 
of countenance, and a bow to the ground, said to the 
servant, who was M'aiting behind his chair, " Mr. John, 
pray be seated in my place, and permit me to wait upon 
you in my turn: your mistress says, you hear, that we are 
all equal." 

205. Divine Service. — Dr. Dodd. 

" I am convinced," said he to a friend, " I ought to be 
present at divine service more frequently than I am; but 
the provocations given by ignorant and affected preachers, 
too often distiu'b the mental calm which otherwise would 
succeed to prayer. I am apt to whisper to myself on such 
occasions. How can this illiterate fellow dream of fixing 
attention, after Ave have been listening to the sublimest 
truths, conveyed in the most chaste and exalted language, 
throughout a liturgy which must be regarded as the 
genuine offspring of piety impregnated by wisdom! Take 
notice, however, though I make this confession respecting 
myself, I do not mean to recommend the fastidiousness 
that sometimes leads me to exchange congregational for 
solitary worship." He was at Streatham church when 
Dodd's first application to him was made, and went out of 
his pew immediately, to Avrite an answer to the letter he 
had received. Afterwards, when he related this circum- 
stance, he added, " I hope I shall be pardoned, if once I 
deserted the service of God for that of man."t 

206. Physicians. 

Johnson obeyed that precept of Scripture which exhorts 
us to honour the physician, and would frequently say of 

* [See Croker's Boswell, vol. i. pp. 225, 460.] 
+ [Ibid., vol. iii. p. 508,] 



HAWKINS. 129 

those of his own country, that they did more good to man- 
kind, without a prospect of reward, than any profession of 
men whatever. 

207. Romantic Virtue. 

Dr. Johnson said, he always mistrusted romantic virtue, 
as thinking it founded on no fixed principle. 

208. Schoolmasters. 

Speaking of schoolmasters, he used to say they were 
worse than the Egyptian taskmasters of old. " No boy," 
says he, " is sure any day he goes to school to escape a 
whipping. How can the schoolmaster tell what the boy 
has really forgotten, and what he has neglected to learn; 
what he has had no opportunities of learning, and what he 
has taken no pains to get at the knowledge of? yet, for 
any of these, however difficult they may be, the boy is 
obnoxious to punishment." 

209. Mystery. 

He used to say that where secrecy or mystery began, 
vice or roguery was not far off. 

210. ''Derange.'" 

He would not allow the verb derange, a word at present 
much in use, to be an English word. " Sir," said a 
gentleman who had some pretensions to literature, " I 
have seen it in a book." " Not in a bound book," said 
Johnson; " disarrange is the Avord we ought to use in- 
stead of it.* 

211. Hugh Kelly. 

When some one asked him whether they should intro- 
duce Hugh Kelly, the author, to him — " No, sir," says 
he, " I never desire to converse with a man who has 
written more than he has read:" yet when his play was 
acted for the benefit of his widow, Johnson furnished a 
prologue. 

* [Even so late as the year 1795, a writer in the British Critic 
censured, as a gallicism, Mr. Burke's use of derange for dis- 
arrange.— C] 
9 



130 JOHNSON I ANA. 

212. The Early Puritans. 

Of the early Puritans, he thought their want of learning 
was atoned for by their skill in the Scriptures, and the holi- 
ness of their lives; and to justify his opinion of them and 
their writings, he once cited to me a saying of Howell, in 
one of his letters, that to make a man a complete Christian, 
he must have the works of a Papist, the words of a Puri- 
tan, and the faith of a Protestant. 

213. Happiness. 

He thought the happiest life was that of a man of busi- 
ness, with some literary pursuits for his amusement; and 
that, in general, no one could be virtuous or happy that 
was not completely employed. 

214. George Psalmanazar. 

He had never, he said, seen the close of the life of any 
one that he wished so much his own to resemble, as that 
of Psalmanazar* for its purity and devotion. He told many 
anecdotes of him; and said he was supposed, by his accent, 
to have been a Gascon; but that he spoke English with 
the city accent, and coai'se enough. He for some years 
spent his evenings at a public-house near Old Street, Avhere 
many persons went to talk with him. When Dr. John- 
son was asked whether he ever contradicted Psalmanazar, 
"I should as soon," said he, " have thought of contradict- 
ing a bishop:" so high did he hold his character in the lat- 
ter part of his life. When he was asked whether he ever 
mentioned Formosa before him, he said, " he was afraid 
to mention even China." 

215. Improvement. 

Johnson was in the habit of visiting Psalmanazar, and 
would frequently adjourn with him from his lodgings to a 
neighbouring alehouse, and, in the common room, converse 
with him on subjects of importance. In one of these con- 
versations, Johnson took occasion to remark on the human 
mind, that it had a necessary tendency to improvement, 
and that it would frequently anticipate instruction, and ena- 

* [See ante, p. 69.] 



HAWKINS. 131 

ble ingenious minds to acquire knowledge. " Sir," said 
a stranger that overheard him, " that I deny: I am a tailor, 
and have had many apprentices, but never one that could 
make a coat, till I had taken great pains in teaching him." 

216. Garrick^s Enunciation. 

He assumed a right of correcting Garrick's enunciation, 
and, by an instance, convinced him that it was sometimes 
erroneous. " You often," said Johnson, " mistake the 
emphatical word of a sentence." " Give me an instance," 
said Garrick. " I cannot," answered Johnson, " recollect 
one; but repeat the Seventh Commandment." Garrick 
pronounced it — " Thou shalt not commit adultery." " You 
are wrong," said Johnson: " it is a negative precept, and 
ought to be pronounced, ' Thou shalt not commit adul- 
tery.' "* 

217. fVarhurton. 

When a Scotchman was talking against Warburton, 
Johnson said he had more literature than had been im- 
ported from Scotland since the days of Buchanan. Upon 
his mentioning other eminent writers of the Scots — " These 
will not do," said Johnson; " let us have some more of 
your northern lights; these are mere farthing candles." 

To a person who asked " whether he had ever been in 
company with Dr. Warburton," he answered, " I never 
saw him till one evening, about a week ago, at the Bishop 
of St. Asaph's: at first he looked surlily at me; but after 
we had been jostled into conversation, he took me to a 
window, asked me some questions, and before we parted 
was so well pleased with me that he patted me," " You 
always, sir, preserved a respect for him?" " Yes, and 
justly: when as yet I was in no favour with the world, he 
spoke well of me,t and I hope I never forgot the obliga- 
tion." 

218. Authors. 

To a lady who signified a great desire to increase her 
acquaintance with authors, conceiving that more might be 

* [See Croker, vol. i. p. 144.] 
t [In his Preface to Shakspeare.] 



132 JOHNSONIANA. 

learned from their conversation and manner of living, than 
from their works, " Madam," said he, " the best part of an 
author will always be found in his writings." 

219. Complainers. 

" Complainers," said he, " are always loud and cla- 
morous." 

220. Lord Chesterfield's Son. 

Johnson said, that he had once seen Mr. Stanhope, Lord 
Chesterfield's son,* at Dodsley's shop, and was so much 
struck with his awkward manner and appearance, that he 
could not help asking Mr. Dodsley who he was. 

221. Fear of Death. 

To his censure of feart in general, he made, however, 
one exception — with respect to the fear of death, timorum 
maximiis: he thought that the best of us were but unpro- 
fitable servants, and had much reason to fear. 

222. Br. Birch. 

Of Dr. Birch, Johnson was used to speak in this man- 
ner: — " Tom is a lively rogue; he remembers a great deal, 
and can tell many pleasant stories; but a pen is to Tom a 
torpedo; the touch of it benumbs his hand and his brain: 
Tom can talk; but he is no writer." 

223. Lyttletonandthe Leasowes. 

Johnson's accountof Lord Lyttleton's envy to Shenstone 
for his improvements in his grounds, &c. was confirmed 
by an ingenious writer, Spence was in the house for a 
fortnight with the Lyttletons before they offered to show 
him Shenstone's place. 

He has been accused of treating Lord Lyttleton roughly 
in his life of him: he assured a friend, however, that he 
kept back a very ridiculous anecdote of him, relative to a 
question he put to a great divine of his time. 

* [The natural son to whom Lord Cherterfield addressed the 
celebrated Letters on Manners.] 
t [See Croker, vol. iii. p. 174, and p. 122 of this volume.] 



HAWKINS. 133 

224. Public Opinion. 

Dr. Johnson held all authors very cheap that were not 
satisfied with the opinion of the public about them. He 
used to say, that every man Avho writes thinks he can 
amuse or inform mankind, and they must be the best 
judges of his pretensions. 

225. Puns. 

Though no great friend to puns, he once, by "ccident, 
made a singular one. A person who affected to live after 
the Greek manner, and to anoint himself with oil, was 
one day mentioned: Johnson, in the course of conversation 
on the singularity of his practice, gave him the denomina- 
tion of this man of Greece (or grease, as you please to 
take it). 

226. Society and Retirement. 

He thought worse of the vices of retirement than of 
those of society. 

227. The Law. 

He thought very favourably of the profession of the law, 
and said that the sages thereof, for a long series backward, 
had been friends to religion. Fortescue says, that their 
afternoon's employment was the study of the Scriptures.* 

♦ [Lord Coke, in his Institutes, 1. ii. c. 1, s. 85, quotes these 
ancient, as he calls them, verses, recommending a proper distribu- 
tion of the time of a law-student: — 

" Sex horas somno, totidem des legibus aequis, 
Q,iiatuor orabis, des epulisque duas; 
CLuod superest ultro sacris largire Cama^nis." 

Of these Sir William Jones made two versions: — 

" Six hours to sleep, to law's grave study six ; 
Four spend in prayer— the rest on nature fix:" 

rather (he adds), 

" Six hours to law, to soothing slumber seven; 
Ten to the world allot, and all to Heaven." 

It is not very clear what nature in the version means; in the 
second Sir William has shortened his day to twenty-three hours: 
and the general advice " of all to Heaven" destroys the peculiar 



134 JOHNSONIANA. 

228. The old English Divines. 

That Johnson owed his excellence as a writer to the 
divines and others of the last century, I can attest. Hooker 
he admired for his logical precision, Sanderson for his acute- 
ness, and Taylor for his amazing erudition; Sir Thomas 
Browne for his penetration, and Cowley for the ease and 
unaffected structure of his periods. The tinsel of Sprat 
disgusted him, and he could but just endure the smooth 
verbosity of Tillotson. Hammond and Barrow he thought 
involved, and of the latter that he was unnecessarily prolix. 

229. '■'■Fiat experimentum in corpore vili." 

He was much pleased with the following repartee: '^'■Fiat 
experimentum in corpore vili,^^ said a French physician to 
his colleague, in speaking of the disorder of a poor man 
that understood Latin, and who was brought into an hospi- 
tal; " Corpus non tam vile est," says the patient, ^^pro 
quo Christus ipse non dedignatus est mori." 

230. Hume. 

He would never hear Hume mentioned with any temper. 
" A man," said he, " who endeavoured to persuade his 
friend, who had the stone, to shoot himself!" 

231. Madness. 

He was a great enemy to the present fashionable way of 
supposing worthless and infamous persons mad. 

232. ./? Scoundrel. 

Dr. Johnson used to say a man was a scoundrel who 
was afraid of anything. 

233. Clarke. — Smalridge. 

He thought of Dr. Clarke, whose sermons he valued 
above all others, that he complied too frequently with in- 
vitations to dine with persons of high rank, his parishioners, 

appropriation of a certain period to religious exercises. Tiie fol- 
lowing version, if less poetical, is at least more exact: — 

" Six hours to sleep devote — to law the same; 
Pray four, feast two — the rest the Muses claim." — C] 



HAWKINS. 135 

and spent too much of his time in ceremonious visits: dif- 
fering, in this respect, from his contemporary Smalridge, 
the elegant Favonius of the Tattler, who in the height of 
his reputation as a preacher, was ever ready to visit a sick 
person in the most obscure alley of Westminster. 

234. Biography. 

When accused of mentioning ridiculous anecdotes in the 
" Lives of the Poets," he said, he should not have been 
an exact biographer if he had omitted them. " The busi- 
ness of such a one," said he, " is to give a complete 
account of the person whose life he is writing, and to dis- 
criminate him from all other persons, by any peculiarities 
of character or sentiments he may happen to have." 

235. Round Numbers. 

" Round numbers," said he, " are always false." 

236. Friendships. 

He once mentioned to me a saying of Dr. NichoUs, and 
highly commended it; namely, that it was a point of wis- 
dom to form intimacies, and choose for our friends only 
persons of known worth and integrity; and that to do so 
had been the rule of his life. 

237. Story Telling. 

Being once asked, if he ever embellished a story — 
" No," said he; " a story is to lead either to the knowledge 
of a fact or character, and is good for nothing if it be not 
strictly and literally true." 

238. Praise. 

He said to me one day, " Garrick, I hear, complains 
that I am the only popular author of his time who has ex- 
hibited no praise of him in print: but he is mistaken, Aken- 
side has forborne to mention him. Some, indeed, are la- 
vish in their applause of all who come within the compass 
of their recollection; yet he who praises everybody praises 
nobody; Avhen both scales are equally loaded, neither can 
preponderate." 



136 JOHNSONIANA. 

239. Matrimony. 

He was extremely fond of the company and conversation 
f women, and had certainly very correct notions as to the 
asis on which matrimonial connections should be formed. 
He always advised his friends, when they were about to 
marry, to unite themselves to a woman of a pious and re- 
ligious frame of mind. " Fear of the world, and a sense of 
honour," said he, " may have an effect upon a man's con- 
duct and behaviour: a woman without religion is without 
the only motive that in general can incite her to do well." 
When some one asked him for Avhat he should marry, 
he replied, " First, for virtue; secondly, for wit; thirdly, 
for beauty; and fourthly, for money." 

240. Pope. 

In his interview with Lord Marchmont, he told me, that 
his first question was, " What kind of a man was Mr. Pope 
in his conversation?" His lordship answered, that " if the 
conversation did not take something of an epigrammatic 
turn, he fell asleep, or perhaps pretended to be so." 

241. Allegorical Painting. 

Talking with some persons about allegorical painting, 
he said, " I had rather see the portrait of a dog that I 
know, than all the allegorical paintings they can show me 
in the world." 

242. A Lad of Parts. 

He once told me, that being at the house of a friend, 
whose son in his school vacation was come home, the father 
spoke of this child as a lad of pregnant parts, and said that 
he was well versed in the classics, and acquainted with 
history, in the study whereof he took great delight. Having 
this information, Johnson, as a test of the young scholar's 
attainments, put this question to him: — " At what time 
did the heathen oracles cease?" The boy, not in the 
least daunted, answered, " At the dissolution of religious 
houses." 

243. War. 

He laughed much at Lord Kaimes' opinion that war 



HAWKINS. 137 

was a good thing occasionally, as so much valour and 
virtue were exhibited in it. " A fire," says Johnson, 
" might as well be thought a good thing; there is the 
bravery and address of the firemen in extinguishing it; 
there is much humanity exerted in saving the lives and 
properties of the poor sufferers; yet," says he, " after all 
this, who can say a fire is a good thing?" 

244. Preachers. 

Johnson seemed to think it a duty to accept in good part 
the endeavours of all public instructors, however meanly 
qualified for the office, and ever to forbear exercising his 
critical talents on the effusions of men inferior in learning 
and abilities to himself. Probably he, on such occasions, 
recollected the quaint distich of Herbert: — 

" The worst have something good ; where all want sense, 
God takes the text, and preacheth patience." 

245. Music. 

Of music he said, "It is the only sensual pleasure with- 
out vice." 

246. Tea. 

Speaking one day of tea, he said, " What a delightful 
beverage must that be that pleases all palates at a time 
when they can take nothing else at breakfast!" 

247. Richard Baxter. 

Of Baxter he entertained a very high opinion, and often 
spoke of him to me as a man of great parts, profound 
learning, and exemplary piety. He said of the office for 
the communion, drawn up Ijy him and produced at the 
Savoy conference, that it was one of the first compositions 
of the ritual kind he had ever seen.* 

248. Voltaire's Charles XII. 

" The Life of Charles the Twelfth," by Voltaire, he said 
was one of the finest pieces of history ever written. 

* It is printed at the end of the first volume of Dr. Calamy's 
Abridgement of Baxter's History of his Life and Times. 



138 JOHNSONIANA. 

249. Jeremy Taylor. 

At times when he was most distressed, I recommended 
to him the perusal of Bishop Taylor's " Rules and Exer- 
cises of Holy Livinff and Dying," and also his " Ductor 
Dubitantium." Of the former, though he placed the author 
at the head of all the divines that have succeeded the fathers, 
he said, that on the reading thereof, he had found little 
more than he had brought himself; and, at the mention of 
the latter, he seemed to shrink. 

250. Shenstone. 

To some lady who Avas praising Shenstone's poems very 
much, and who had an Italian greyhound lying by the fire, 
he said, " Shenstone holds amongst poets the same rank 
your dog holds amongst dogs: he has not the sagacity of 
the hound, the docility of the spaniel, nor the courage of 
the bull-dog, yet still he is a pretty fellow." 

251. Pla3:ue in London. — Nathaniel Hodsres. 

With all that asperity of manners with which he has been 
charged, and which kept at a distance many who, to my 
knowledge, would have been glad of an intimacy with 
him, he possessed the affections of pity and compassion in 
a most eminent degree. In a mixed company, of which I 
was one, the conversation turned on the pestilence which 
raged in London in the year 1665, and gave occasion to 
Johnson to speak of Dr. Nathaniel Hodges, who, in the 
height of that calamity, continued in the city, and was 
almost the only one of his profession that had the courage 
to oppose the endeavours of his art to the spreading of the 
contagion. It was the hard fate of this person, a short 
time after, to die a prisoner for debt in Ludgate. Johnson 
related this circumstance to us, with the tears ready to 
start from his eyes, and with great energy said, " Such 
a man would not have been suffered to perish in these 
times." 

252. Jortin. 

He was much pleased with Dr. Jortin's Sermons, the 
language of which he thought very elegant; but thought 
his " Life of Erasmus" a dull book. 



139 



253. Blachnore. 



To a gentleman who expressed himself in disrespectful 
terms of Blackmore, one of whose poetic bulls he happened 
just then to recollect, Dr. Johnson answered, " I hope, 
sir, a blunder, after you have heard what I shall relate, 
will not be reckoned decisive against a poet's reputation. 
When I was a young man, I translated Addison's Latin 
poem on the Batde of the Pygmies and the Cranes, and 
must plead guilty to the following couplet: 

' Down from the guardian boughs the nests they flung, 
And killed the yet unanimated young ' 

And yet I trust I am no blockhead. I afterwards changed 
the word kilVd into crusW dJ''' 

254. Watts^s " Improvement of the Mind." 

Watts's "Improvement of the Mind" was a very 
favourite book with him: he used to recommend it, as he 
also did " Le Dictionnaire Portatif ' of Abbe L'Avocat. 

2 55. Kempis^s "Z)e Imitatione Christi." 

He was, for some time, pleased with Kempis's tract, 
" De Imitatione Christi;" but at length laid it aside, say- 
ing, " that the main design of it was to promote monastic 
piety, and inculcate ecclesiastical obedience." One senti- 
ment therein he however greatly applauded, and I find it 
adopted by Bishop Taylor, who gives it in these words: 
— " It is no great matter to live lovingly with good-na- 
tured, with humble, and meek persons; but he that can 
do so with the froward, with the wilful, and the ignorant, 
with the peevish and perverse, he only hath true charity. 
Always remembering, that our true solid peace, the peace 
of God, consists rather in compliance with others, than 
in being complied with; in suffering and forbearing, rather 
than in contention and victory." 

256. Br. Hammond. 
He was extremely fond of Dr. Hammond's (*) works, 

(*) [Henry Hammond, D. D., born in 1605; elected a fellow of 
Magdalen College, Oxford, in 1625; canon of Christchurch 1645. 



140 JOHNSONIANA. 

and sometimes gave them as a present to young men 
going into orders: he also bought them for the library at 
Streatham. 

257. Mrs. Macaulay's ''History." 

Being asked whether he had read Mrs. Macaulay's 
second volume of the " History of England," — " No, 
sir," says he, " nor her first neither." 

258. Churchill. 

Being told that Churchill had abused him under the 
character of Pomposo, in his Ghost, "I always thought," 
said he, "he was a shallow fellow, and I think so still." 

259. Lord Kai'mes. 

Johnson thought very well of Lord Kaimes's " Ele- 
ments of Criticism:" of others of his writings he thought 
very indifferently. 

200. Mandeville. 

He thought highly of, and would often commend, 
Mandeville's " Discourse on Hypochondriac Affections." 

261. Coivley. 

In his own judgment of the " Lives of the Poets," 
Johnson gave the preference to that of Cowley, as con- 
taining a nicer investigation and discrimination of the cha- 
racteristics of wit than is elsewhere to be found. 

262. Mdisorts " Cato.'" 

He thought Addison's " Cato" the best model of tragedy 
we had; yet he used to say, of all things, the most ridicu- 
lous would be to see a girl cry at the representation of it. 

263. Religious Poetry. 
Moses Browne, originally a pen-cutter, and afterwards a 

He suffered much persecution during the Rebellion, and was, it 
is said, designed for the bishopric of Worcester at the Restora- 
tion; but he died a few days before the king's return. He was a 
voluminous writer, but his best known work is " A Paraphrase 
and Annotations on the New Testament," which Dr. Johnson 
recommended to Mr. Bosweil. — C] 



HAWKINS. 141 

writer in the " Gentleman's Magazine," published a series 
of devout contemplations, called " Sunday Thoughts." 
Johnson, who often expressed his dislike of religious 
poetry, and who, for the purpose of religious meditation, 
seemed to think one day as proper as another, read them 
with cold approbation, and said, he had a great mind to 
write and publish " Monday Thoughts." 

264. Myssinian Bruce. 

He said that when he first conversed with Mr. Bruce, 
the Abyssinian traveller, he was very much inclined to 
believe he had been there; but that he had afterwards 
altered his opinion. 

265. Government. 

That Johnson was a Tory, he not only never hesi- 
tated to confess, but, by his frequent invectives against 
the Whigs, was forward to proclaim: yet was he not so 
bigoted in his notions as to abet what is called the pa- 
triarchal scheme, as delineated by Sir Robert Filmer and 
other writers on government; nor, with others of a more 
sober cast, to acquiesce in the opinion that, because sub- 
mission to governors is, in general terms, inculcated in the 
Holy Scriptures, the resistance of tyranny and oppression 
is, in all cases, unlawful: he seemed rather to adopt the 
sentiments of Hooker on the subject, as explained by 
Hoadly, and, by consequence, to look on submission to 
lawful authority as a moral obligation; he therefore con- 
demned the conduct of James the Second during his short 
reign; and, had he been a subject of that weak and infa- 
tuated monarch, would, I am persuaded, have resisted any 
invasion of his right, or unwarrantable exertion of power, 
with the same spirit as did the president and fellows of 
Magdalen College, or those conscientious divines, the seven 
bishops. This disposition, as it leads to Whigism, one 
would have thought might have reconciled him to the me- 
mory of James's successor, whose exercise of the regal 
authority among us merited better returns than were made 
him; but, it had no such effect: he never spoke of King 
William but in terms of reproach, and, in his opinion of 
him, seemed to adopt all the preji;dices of jacobite bigotry 
and rancour. 



143 JOHNSONIANA. 

266. Sir Robert IValpoJe. 

Of Sir Robert Walpole, notwithstanding that he had 
written against him in the early part of his life, he had 
a high opinion. He said of him, that he was a fine 
fellow, and that his very enemies deemed him so before 
his death: he honoured his memory for having kept this 
country in peace many years, as also for the goodness and 
placability of his temper; of which Pulteney, Earl of 
Bath, thought so highly, that, in a conversation with John- 
son, he said, that Sir Robert was of a temper so calm and 
equal, and so hard to be provoked, that he was very sure 
he never felt the bitterest invectives against him for half an 
hour. 

To the same purpose Johnson related the following 
anecdote, which he said he had from Lord North: — Sir 
Robert having got into his hands some treasonable letters 
of his inveterate enemy, William Shippen, one of the 
heads of the Jacobite fiiction, he sent for him, and burn- 
ed them before his lace. Some time afterwards, Shippen 
had occasion to take the oaths to the government in the 
House of Commons, which, while he Avas doing. Sir 
Robert, who stood next him, and knew his principles to be 
the same as ever, smiled: " Egad, Robin," said Shippen, 
who had observed him, " that's hardly fair." 

267. Patriots. — Pulteney. 

To party opposition Dr. Johnson ever expressed great 
aversion; and, of the pretences of patriots, always spoke 
with indignation and contempt. He partook of the short- 
lived joy that infatuated the public when Sir Robert Wal- 
pole ceased to have the direction of the national councils, 
and trusted to the professions of Mr. Pulteney and his ad- 
herents, who called themselves the country-party, that all 
elections should thenceforward be free and uninfluenced, 
and that bribery and corruption, which were never prac- 
tised but by courtiers and their agents, should be no more. 
A few weeks, nay, a few days, convinced Johnson, that 
what had assumed the appearance of patriotism was per- 
sonal hatred and inveterate malice in some, and in others, 
an ambition for that power which, when they had got it, 
lliey knew not how to exercise. A change of men, and in 



HAWKINS. 143 

some respect of measures, took place: Mr. Pulteney's am- 
bition was gratified by a peerage; the wants of his asso- 
ciates were relieved by places, and seats at the public 
boards; and, in a short time, the stream of government re- 
sumed its former channel, and ran with a current as even 
as it had ever done. 

Upon this developement of the motives, the views, and 
the consistency of the above-mentioned band of patriots, 
Johnson once remarked to me, that it had given more 
strength to government than all that had been written in 
its defence; meaning thereby, that it had destroyed all 
confidence in men of that character. 

268. Johnson and Arkwright. 

His knowledge in manufactures was extensive, and his 
comprehension relative to mechanical contrivances was still 
more extraordinary. The well-known Mr. Arkwright pro- 
nounced him to be the only person who, on a first view, 
understood both the principle and powers of his most com- 
plicated piece of machineryr 

269. Ji lazy Dog. 

One day, on seeing an old terrier lie asleep by the fire- 
side at Streatham, he said, " Presto, you are if possible, a 
more lazy dog than I am." 

270. Goldsmith's ''Traveller:' 

He repeated poetry with wonderful energy and feeling. 
He was seen to weep whilst he repeated Goldsmith's cha- 
racter of the English in his " Traveller," beginning " Stern 
o'er each bosom,'" &c. 

271. Time. 

He was extremely accurate in his computation of time. 
He could tell how many heroic Latin verses could be re- 
peated in such a given portion of it, and was anxious that 
his friends should take pains to form in their minds some 
measure for estimating the lapse of it. 

272. Suspicion. 
Johnson was not apt to judge ill of persons without good 



144 JOHNSONIANA. 

reasons; an old friend of his used to say, that in general he 
thought too well of mankind. 

273. Latin. 

Johnson spoke Latin with great fluency and elegance. 
He said, indeed, he had taken great pains about it. 

274. Education. 

Being asked by Dr. Lawrence, what he thought the best 
system of education, he replied, " School in school hours, 
and home instruction in the intervals." 

275. Mallet. — Hume.^Colman. 

He once expressed these sentiments: — " I have seldom 
met with a man whose colloquial ability exceeded that of 
Mallet. I was but once in Hume's company, and then 
his only attempt at merriment consisted in his display of a 
drawing too indecently gross to have delighted, even in a 
brothel. Colman never produced a luckier thing than his 
first Ode in imitation of Gray;(*) a considerable part of it 
may be numbered among those felicities which no man 
has twice attained." 

276. Johnson's Talk. 

One who had long known Johnson said of him, " In 
general you may tell what the man to whom you are speak- 
ino- will say next; this you can never do of Johnson: his 
images, his allusions, his great powers of ridicule, throw 
the appearance of novelty upon the most common conver- 
sation." 

277. Mr. TliraWs Death-bed. 

He attended Mr. Thrale in his last moments, and 
stayed in the room praying, as is imagined, till he had 
drawn his last breath. " His servants," said he, " would 
have waited upon him in this awful period, and why not 
his friend?" 

278. The Thrales. — Leave-taking. 

The death of Mr. Thrale dissolved the friendship be- 

(*) [" Odes to Obscurity and Oblivion."] 



HAWKINS. 145 

tween him and Johnson; but it abated not in the latter that 
care for the interests of those whom his friend had left be- 
hind him, which he thought himself bound to cherish, as a 
living principle of gratitude. The favours he had received 
from Mr. Thrale were to be repaid by the exercise of 
kind offices towards his relict and her children; and these, 
circumstanced as Johnson was, could only be prudent 
counsels, friendly admonition to the one, and preceptive 
instruction to the others, both which he was ever ready to 
interpose. Nevertheless, it was observed by myself, and 
other of Johnson's friends, that, soon after the decease of 
Mr. Thrale, his visits to Streatham became less and less fre- 
quent, and that he studiously avoided the mention of the 
place or family. It seems that between him and the widow 
there was a formal taking of leave, for I find in his diary 
the following note: — " April 5th, 1783. " I took leave of 
Mrs. Thrale. I was much moved. I had some expostu- 
lations with her. She said that she was likewise affected. 
I commended the Thrales with great good-will to God. 
May ray petitions have been heard!" 

279. Johnsoii's Charity. 

Almost throughout his life, poverty and distressed cir- 
cumstances seemed to be the strongest of all recommenda- 
tions to his favour. When asked by one of his most 
intimate friends, how he could bear to be surrounded by 
such necessitous and undeserving people as he had about 
him, his answer was, " If I did not assist them no one else 
would, and they must be lost for want." 

280. Rapidity of Composition. 

*'I wrote," said Johnson, " the first seventy lines of the 
" Vanity of Human Wishes," in the course of one morn- 
ing, in that small house beyond the church at Hampstead, 
The whole number was composed before I committed a 
single couplet to writing. The same method I pursued in 
regard to the prologue on opening Drury Lane Theatre. 
I did not afterwards change more than a word in it, and 
that was done at the remonstrance of Garrick. I did not 
think his criticism just, but it was necessary that he should 
be satisfied with what he was to utter." 
10 



146 JOHNSONIANA. 

28 1 . Mimicry. — Humour. 

Gesticular mimicry and buffoonery Johnson hated, and 
would often huff Garrick for exercising it in his presence; 
but of the talent of liumour he had an almost enviable 
portion. To describe the nature of this faculty, as he was 
wont to display it in his hours of mirth and relaxation, I 
must say that it was ever of that arch and dry kind, which 
lies concealed under the appearance of gravity, and which 
acquiesces in an error for the purpose of refuting it. 

282. Invitations to Dinner. 

Invitations to dine with those whom he liked he so 
seldom declined, that to a friend of his, he said, " I never 
but once, upon a resolution to employ myself in study, 
balked an invitation out to dinner, and then I stayed at 
home and did nothing." 

283. Asperity of Manner. 

There was more asperity in Johnson's manner of expres- 
sion than in his natural disposition; for I have heard that, 
in many instances, and in some with tears in his eyes, he 
has apologized to those whom he had offended by contra- 
diction or roughness of behaviour. 

284. ReynolcWs Portrait of Johnson. 

The picture of him by Sir Joshua Reynolds, which was 
painted for Mr. Beauclerk, and is now Mr. Langton's, and 
scraped in mezzotinto by Doughty, is extremely like him; 
there is in it that appearance of a labouring working mind, 
of an indolent reposing body, which he had to a very great 
degree. Indeed, the common operations of dressing, 
shaving, &c. were a toil to him; he held the care of the 
body very cheap. He used to say, that a man who rode 
out for an appetite consulted but little the dignity of human 
nature. 

285. Johnson's last Illness. 

A few days after the remnant of the Ivy Lane Club had 
dined with him [Feb.. 1784], Dr. Johnson sent for me, 
and informed me that he had discovered in himself the 



HAWKINS. 147 

symptoms of a dropsy; and, indeed, his very much in- 
creased bulk, and the swollen appearance of his legs, 
seemed to indicate no less. He told me, that he was 
desirous of making a will, and requested me to be one of 
his executors: upon my consenting, he gave me to under- 
stand that he meant to make a provision for his servant, 
Frank, of about 70/. a year for his life, and concerted with 
me a plan for investing a sum sufficient for the purpose: at 
the same time he opened to me the state of his circum- 
stances, and the amount of what he had to dispose of. 

In a visit which I made him in a few days, in conse- 
quence of a very pressing request to see me, I found him 
labouring under great dejection of mind. He bade me 
draw near him, and said he wanted to enter into a serious 
conversation Avith me; and, upon my expressing a willing- 
ness to join in it, he, with a look that cut me to the heart, 
told me that he had the prospect of death before him, and 
that he dreaded to meet his Saviour.(*) I could not but be 
astonished at such a declaration, and advised him, as I had 
done once before, to reflect on the course of his life, and 
the services he had rendered to the cause of religion and 
virtue, as well by his example as his writings; to which 
he answered, that he had written as a philosopher, but he 
had not lived like one. In the estimation of his offences, 
he reasoned thus: "Every man knows his own sins, and 
also what grace he has resisted: but, to those of others, 
and the circumstances under which they Avere committed, 
he is a stranger: he is, therefore, to look on himself as the 
greatest sinner that he knows of."(t) At the conclusion of 
this argument, which he strongly enforced, he uttered this 
passionate exclamation, — " Shall I, who have been a 
teacher of others, myself be a castaway?" 

Much to the same purpose passed between us in this 
and other conversations that I had with him; in all which 
I could not but wonder, as much at the freedom with which 
he opened his mind, and the compunction he seemed to 

(*) This, and other expressions of the like kind, which he 
uttered to me, should put to silence the idle reports that he dreaded 
annihilation. 

(t) I find the above sentiment in "Law's Serious call to a De- 
vout and Holy Life," a book which Johnson was very conversant 
with, and often commended. 



148 JOHNSONIANA. 

feel for the errors of his past life, as I did at his making 
choice of me for his confessor, knowing full well how mean- 
ly qualified I was for such an office. 

It was on a Thursday (*) that I had this conversation 
with him; and here, let not the supercilious lip of scorn 
protrude itself, while I relate that, he declared his inten- 
tion to devote the whole of the next day to fasting, humilia- 
tion, and such other devotional exercises as became a man 
in his situation. On the Saturday following I made him a 
visit, and, upon entering his room, observed in his counte- 
nance such a serenity, as indicated that some remarkable 
crisis of his disorder had produced a change in his feelings. 
He told me that, pursuant to the resolution he had mention- 
ed, he had spent the preceding day in an abstraction from 
all worldly concerns; that, to prevent interruption, he had, 
in the morning, ordered Frank not to admit any one to him; 
and, the better to enforce the charge, had added these awful 
words, " For your master is preparing himself to die." 
He then mentioned to me, that, in the course of this exer- 
cise, he found himself relieved from that disorder which 
had been growing on him, and was become very oppress- 
ing, the dropsy, by a gradual evacuation of water to the 
amount of twenty pints, a like instance whereof he had 
never before experienced; and asked me what I thought of it. 

I was well aware of the lengths that superstition and 
enthusiasm will lead men, and how ready some are to at- 
tribute favourable events to supernatural causes, and said, 
that it might savour of presumption to say that, in this in- 
stance, God had wrought a miracle; yet, as divines recog- 
nise certain dispensations of his providence, recorded in 
the Scripture by the denomination of returns of prayer, and 
his omnipotence is now the same as ever, I thought it would 
be little less than criminal to ascribe his late relief to causes 
merely natural, and that the safer opinion was, that he had 
not in vain humbled himself before his Maker. He seemed 
to acquiesce in all that I said on this important subject; and, 
several times, while I was discoursing with him, cried out, 
" It is wonderful, very wonderful!" 

His zeal for religion, as manifested in his writings and 

(•) [It appears from Johnson's own letters, that the event itself 
took place on Thursday, 19th February.— C] 



HAWKINS. 149 

conversation, and the accounts extant that attest his piety, 
have induced the enemies to his memory to tax him with 
superstition. To that charge I oppose his behaviour on 
this occasion, and leave it to the judgment of sober and 
rational persons, whether such an unexpected event as that 
above mentioned would not have prompted a really super- 
stitious man to some more passionate exclamation than that 
it was " wonderful. "(*) 

After the declaration he had made of his intention to 
provide for his servant Frank, and before his going into 
the country, I had frequently pressed him to make a will, 
and had gone so far as to make a draft of one, with blanks 
for the names of the executors and residuary legatee, and 
directing in what manner it was to be executed and at- 
tested; but he was exceedingly averse to this business; and, 
while he was in Derbyshire, I repeated my solicitations, 
for this purpose, by letters. When he arrived in town, 
he had done nothing in it, and, to what I formerly said, I 
now added, that he had never mentioned the disposal of 
the residue of his estate, which, after the purchase of an 
annuity for Frank, would be something considerable, and 
that he would do well to bequeath it to his relations. His 
answer was, " I care not what becomes of the residue." 
A few days after, it appeared that he had executed the 
draft, the blanks remaining, with all the solemnities of a 
real will. I could get him no further; and thus, for some 
time, the matter rested. 

His complaints still increasing, I continued pressing 
him to make a will; but he still procrastinated that busi- 
ness. On the 27th of November, in the morning, I went 
to his house, with a purpose still farther to urge him not to 
give occasion, by dying intestate, for litigation among his 

(*) Doubtless there are men who look upon all religious exercises 
as supersiiiion, and upon prayer and other acts of devoiion as evi- 
dences of a weak mind. These say, that reason is a sufficient rule 
of action, and that God needs not to be supplicated, nor requires 
our thanks. Of this class of individuals I take Annet to have been 
one, — he who wrote against the miracles, and was some years ago 
convicted of blasphemy, and sentenced to imprisonment. The wife 
of Jackson, the bookseller, in Clare Court, DruryLane, once told 
me, that this man would often call in at their shop; and if he hap- 
pened to see a Bible lying on the counter, would entreat her to 
lake it away, for that he could not bear the sight of it. 



1 50 JOHNSONIANA. 

relations; but finding' that he was gone to pass the day 
with the Rev. Mr. Strahan, at Islington, I followed him 
thither, and found there our old friend Mr. Ryland, and 
Mr. Hoole. Upon my sitting down, he said, that the 
prospect of a change he was about to undergo, and the 
thought of meeting his Saviour, troubled him, but that he 
had hope that he would not reject him. 

I then began to discourse with him about his will, and 
the provision for Frank, till he grew angry. He told me, 
that he had signed and sealed the paper I left him: " But 
that," said I, "had blanks in it, which, as it seems, you 
have not filled up with the names of the executors." " You 
should have filled them up yourself," answered he. I 
replied that such an act would have looked as if I meant 
to prevent his choice of a fitter person. " Sir," said he, 
" these minor virtues are not to be exercised in matters of 
such importance as this." At length he said, that on his 
return home he would send for a clerk, and dictate a will 
to him. " You will then," said I, " be inops consilii; 
rather do it now. With Mr. Strahan's permission I will 
be his guest at dinner; and, if Mr. Hoole will please to 
hold the pen, I will, in a few words, make such a dis- 
position of your estate as you shall direct." To this he 
assented; but such a paroxysm of the asthma seized him, 
as prevented our going on. As the fire burned up, he 
found himself relieved, and grew cheerful. " The fit," 
said he, "was very sharp; but I am now easy." 

After I had dictated a few lines, I told him, that the 
ancient form of wills contained a profession of the faith of 
the testator; and that he being a man of eminence for 
learning and parts, it would afford an illustrious example, 
and well become him, to make such an explicit declaration 
of his belief, as might obviate all suspicions that he was 
any other than a Christian. He thanked me for the hint, 
and, calling for paper, wrote on a slip, that I had in my 
hand and gave him, the following words: — " I humbly 
commit to the infinite and eternal goodness of Almighty 
God, my soul, polluted with many sins — but, as I hope, 
purified by repentance, and redeemed, as I trust, by the 
death of Jesus Christ;" (*) and returning it to me, said, 
" This I commit to your custody." 

(*) The will of the other great luminary of that age, Mr. Burke» 



HAWKINS. 151 

Upon my calling on him for directions to proceed, he 
told me that his father, in the course of his trade of a 
bookseller, had become bankrupt, and that Mr. William 
Innys had assisted him with money or credit to continue 
his business, " This," said he, " I consider as an obliga- 
tion on me to be grateful to his descendants, and I there- 
fore mean to give 200/. to his representative." He then 
meditated a devise of his house at Lichfield to the corpo- 
ration of that city for a charitable use; but, it being freehold, 
he said, " I cannot live a twelvemonth, and the last statute 
of mortmain stands in the way: I must therefore think of 
some other disposition of it." His next consideration was, 
a provision for Frank, concerning the amount whereof I 
found he had been consulting Dr. Brocklesby; to whom he 
had put this question, " What would be a proper annuity 
to bequeath to a favourite servant?" The doctor answered, 
that the circumstances of the master were the truest mea- 
sure; and that, in the case of a nobleman, 50/. a year was 
deemed an adequate reward for many years' faithful 
service. " Then shall I," said Johnson, " be nobilissimus; 
for I mean to leave Frank 70/. a year, and I desire you 
to tell him so." And now, at the making of the will, a 
devise, equivalent to such a provision, Avas therein inserted. 
The residue of his estate and effects, which took in, though 
he intended it not, the house at Lichfield, he bequeathed 
to his executors, in trust for a religious association; which 
it is needless to describe. 

Having executed the will with the necessary formalities, 
he would have come home; but being pressed by Mr. and 
Mrs. Strahan to stay, he consented, and we all dined to- 
gether. Towards the evening he grew cheerful; and I 
having promised to take him in my coach, Mr. Strahan and 
Mr. Ryland would accompany him home. In the way 
thither he appeared much at ease, and told stories. At 

is throughout strikingly characteristic, and was no doubt chiefly- 
drawn up by himself. Those who revere his memory will read 
with satisfaction the opening declaration. "First, according to 
the ancient, good, and laudable custom, of which my heart and 
understanding rccog?ii~e the propriety, I bequeath my soul to God, 
hoping for his mercy through the only merits of our Lord and 
Saviour Jesus Christ." — Markland. 



152 JOHNSONIANA. 

eight I set him down, and Mr. Strahan and Mr. Ryland be- 
took themselves to their respective homes. 

Sunday, Nov. 28th. I saw him about noon: he was 
dozing; but waking, he found himself in a circle of his 
friends. Upon opening his eyes, he said, that the pros- 
pect of his dissolution was very terrible to him, and ad- 
dressed himself to us all, in nearly these words: " You 
see the state in which I am; conflicting with bodily pain 
and mental distraction: while you are in health and 
strength, labour to do good, and avoid evil, if ever you hope 
to escape the distress that now oppresses me." 

A little while after, — " I had, very early in my life, the 
seeds of goodness in me: I had a love of virtue, and a re- 
verence for religion; and these, I trust, have brought forth 
in me fruits meet for repentance; and, if I have repented 
as I ought, I am forgiven. I have, at times, entertained a 
loathing of sin and of myself, particularly at the beginning 
of this year, when I had the prospect of death before me; 
and this has not abated when my fears of death have been 
less; and, at these times, I have had such rays of hope 
shot into my soul, as have almost persuaded me that I am 
in a state of reconciliation with God." 

29th. Mr. Langton, who had spent the evening with 
him, reported that his hopes were increased, and that he 
was much cheered upon being reminded of the general 
tendency of his writings, and of his example. 

30th. I saw him in the evening, and found him cheer- 
ful. Was informed that he had, for his dinner, eaten 
heartily of a French duck pie and a pheasant. 

Dec. 1. He was busied in destroying papers. Gave 
to Mr. Langton and another person {*), to fair-copy, some 
translations of the Greek epigrams, which he had made in 
the preceding nights, and transcribed the next morning, and 
they began to work on them. 

3d. Finding his legs continue to swell, he signified to 
his physicians a strong desire to have them scarified; but 
they, unwilling to put him to pain, and fearing a mortifica- 
tion, declined advising it. He afterwards consulted his 
surgeon, and he performed the operation on one leg. 

4th. I visited him: the scarification made yesterday 

(*) [Young Mr. Desmoulins — C] 



HAWKINS. 153 

in his leg appeared to have had little effect. He said to 
me, that he was easier in his mind, and as fit to die at 
that instant as he could be a year hence. He requested 
me to receive the sacrament with him on Sunday, the 
next day. Complained of great weakness, and of phan- 
toms that haunted his imagination. 

5th. Being Sunday, I communicated with him and 
Mr. Langton, and other of his friends, as many as nearly 
filled the room. Mr. Strahan, who was constant in his 
attendance on him throughout his illness, performed the 
ofiice. Previous to reading the exhortation, Johnson knelt, 
and, with a degree of fervour that I had never been witness 
to before, uttered the following most eloquent and ener- 
getic prayer: — 

"Almighty and most merciful Father, I am now, as to human 
eyes it seems, about to commemorate, for the last time, the death 
of ihy son Jesus Christ, our Saviour and Redeemer. Grant, O 
Lord, that my whole hope and confidence may be in his merits 
and in thy mercy: forgive and accept my late conversion; enforce 
and accept my imperfect repentance; make this commemoration 
of him available to the confirmation of my faith, the establishment 
of my hope, and the enlargement of my charily; and make the 
death of thy son Jesus effectual to my redemption. Have mercy 
upon me, and pardon the multitude of my offences. Bless my 
friends: have mercy upon all men. Support me by the grace of 
thy Holy Spirit in the days of weakness, and at the hour of death; 
and receive me, at my death, to everlasting happiness, for the sake 
of Jesus Christ. — Amen." 

Upon rising from his knees, after the oflSce was con- 
cluded, he said, that he dreaded to meet God in a state of 
idiotcy, or with opium in his head; and, that having now 
communicated with the effects of a dose upon him, he 
doubted if his exertions were the genuine operations of his 
mind, and repeated from Bishop Taylor this sentiment, 
" That little that has been omitted in health can be done to 
any purpose in sickness. "(*) 

(*) He very much admired, and often in the course of his ill- 
ness recited, from the conclusion of old Isaac Walton's Life of 
Bishop Sanderson, the following pathetic request: — "Thus this 
pattern of meekness and primitive innocence changed this for a 
better life: — 'tis now too late to wish that mine may be like his; 
for I am in the eighty-fifth year of my age, and God knows it 
hath not: but, I most humbly beseech Almighty God, that my 
death may; and I do as earnestly beg, that, if any reader shall re- 
ceive any satisfaction from this very plain, and as true, relation, 
he will be so charitable as to say Amen." 



154 JOHNSONIANA. 

While he was dressing and preparing for this solemnity, 
an accident happened which went very near to disarrange 
his mind. He had mislaid, and was very anxious to find a 
paper that contained private instructions to his executors; 
and myself, Mr. Strahan, Mr. Langton, Mr. Hoole, Frank, 
and I believe some others that were about him, went into 
his bed-chamber to seek it. In our search, I laid my hands 
on a parchment-covered book, into which I imagined it 
might have been slipped. Upon opening the book, I found 
it to be meditations and reflections, in Johnson's own hand- 
writing; and having been told a day or two before by Frank, 
that a person(*) formerly intimately connected with his mas- 
ter, a joint proprietor of a newspaper, well known among 
the booksellers, and of whom Mrs. Williams once told me 
she had often cautioned him to beware; I say, having been 
told that this person had lately been very importunate to get 
access to him, indeed to such a degree as that, when he was 
told that the doctor was not to be seen, he would push his 
way up stairs; and having stronger reasons than I need here 
mention, to suspect that this man might find and make an ill 
use of the book, I put it, and a less of the same kind, into 
my pocket; at the same time telling those around me, and 
particularly Mr. Langton and Mr. Strahan, that I had got 
both, Avith my reasons for thus securing them. After the 
ceremony was over, Johnson took me aside, and told me that 
I had a book of his in my pocket: I answered that I had two, 
and to prevent their falling into the hands of a person who 
had attempted to force his way into the house, I had done 
as I conceived a friendly act, but not without telling his 
friends of it, and also my reasons. He then asked me what 
ground I had for my suspicion of the man I mentioned: I 
told him his great importunity to get admittance; and far- 
ther, that immediately after a visit which he made me, in 
the year 1775, I missed a paper of a public nature, and of 
great importance; and that a day or two after, and before 
it could be put to its intended use, I saw it in the news- 
papers, (t) 

(*) [Mr. George Steevens.— C] 

(t) As I take no pleasure in the disgrace of others, I regret the 
necessity I am under of mentioning these particulars; my reason 
for it is, that the transaction which so disturbed him may possibly 
be better known than the motives that actuated me at the time. — 



HAWKINS. 155 

At the mention of this circumstance, Johnson paused; 
hut recovering himself, said, " You shoukl not have laid 
hands on the book; for had I missed it, and not known you 
had it, I should have roared for my book, as Othello did 
for his handkerchief, and probably have run mad." 

I gave him time, till the next day, to compose himself, 
and then wrote him a letter, apologising, and assigning at 
large the reasons for my conduct; and received a verbal 
answer by Mr. liangton, which, were I to repeat it, would 
render me suspected of inexcusable vanity; it concluded 
with these words, " If I Avas not satislied with this, I must 
be a savage." 

7th. I again visited him. Before my departure, Dr. 
Brocklesby came in, and, taking him by the wrist, John- 
son gave him a look of great contempt, and ridiculed the 
judging of his disorder by the pulse. He complained, that 
the sarcocele had again made its appearance, and asked if 
a puncture would not relieve him, as it had done the year 
before? The doctor answered, that it might, but that his 
surgeon was the best judge of the effect of such an opera- 
tion. Johnson, upon this, said, " How many men in a 
year die through the timidity of those whom they consult 
for health! I want length of life, and you fear giving me 
pain, which I care not for." 

8th. I visited him with Mr. Langton, and found him 
dictating to Mr. Strahan another will, (*) the former being, 



Hawkins. — [Miss Hawkins's Memoirs, vol. i. p. 2G4, lellsthis story 
in the same way, supplies Steevens's name, and insists on the 
same justification, which would be quite inconclusive, even if the 
fact on which the suspicion against Steevens was grounded were 
true, for the purloined paper was only a copy of an address from 
the Middlesex magistrates to the king (which was, from its very 
nature, destined for publication.) And after all, there was no 
other proof that Steevens had taken this paper, than that it ap- 
peared in the St. James's Chronicle the day after Steevens had 
made a visit at Sir John's. Hawkins's act was unjustifiable, and 
the defence frivolous. It is observable that there was no allusion 
to these circumstances in the Jirsl edition of Hawkins's work. — C] 
(*) [There seems something odd in this affair of the will. Why 
did Johnson, after employing Sir J. Hawkins, a professional and 
in every other respect a proper person to draw up his will, throw 
it aside, and dictate another to a young clergymanl Had Sir J. 
Hawkins attempted to thwart the testator's intentions, which he 
tells us he disapproved of? or was this change the result of the 



156 JOHNSONIANA. 

as he said at the time of making it, a temporary one. On 
our entering the room, he said, " God bless you both." I 
arrived just time enough to direct the execution, and also 
the attestation of it. After he had published it, he desired 
Mr. Strahan to say the Lord's Prayer, which he did, all of 
us joining. Johnson, after it, uttered extempore a few pious 
ejaculations. 

9th. I saw him in the evening, and found him dictating 
to Mr. Strahan a codicil to the will he had made the even- 
ing before. I assisted them in it, and received from the 
testator a direction, to insert a devise to his executors of 
the house at Lichfield, to be sold for the benefit of certain 
of his relations, a bequest of sundry pecuniary and specific 
legacies, a provision for the annuity of 70/. for Francis, 
and, after all, a devise of all the rest, residue, and remain- 
der of his estate and effects, to his executors, in trust for 
the said Francis Barber, his executors and administrators; 
and having dictated accordingly, Johnson executed and 
published it as a codicil to his will.(*) 

scene of the 5ih about the secreted books'? In any case, it may 
have tended to produce that unfavourable temper towards Dr. 
Johnson which tinges the whole, and certainly discolours some 
passages of Sir J. Hawkins's book. — C] 

(*) How much soever 1 approve of the practice of rewarding the 
fidelity of servants, I cannot but think that, in testamentary dis- 
positions in their favour, some discretion ought to be exercised; 
and that, in scarce any instance, ihey are to be preferred to those 
■who are allied to the testator either in blood or by affinity. Of the 
merits of this servant, a judgment may be formed from what I 
shall hereafter have occasion to say of him. It was hinted to me 
many years ago, by his master, that he was a loose fellow; and 
I learned from others, that, after an absence from his service of 
some years, he married. In his search of a wife, he picked up 
one of those creitures with whom, in the disposal of themselves, 
no contrariety of colour is an obstacle. It is said, that soon after 
his marriage he became jealous, and it may be supposed, that he 
continued so, till, by presenting him with a daughter of her own 
colour, his wife put an end to all his doubts on that score. Not- 
withstanding which, Johnson, in the excess of indiscriminating 
benevolence, about a year before his death, took the wife and her 
two children into his house, and made them a part of his family; 
and, by the codicil to his will, made a disposition in his favour, to 
the amount in value of near fifieen hundred pounds. — Hawkins. — 
[Several small causes contributed to make Sir J. Hawkins dislike 
Barber; who, in the kind of ftud and rivalry between Sir John 
and Boswell, sided with the latter, and communicated to him the 



HAWKINS. 157 

He was now so weak as to be unable to kneel, and 
lamented that he must pray sitting; but, with an effort, he 
placed himself on his knees, while Mr. Strahan repeated 
the Lord's Prayer. During the whole of the evening he 
was much composed and resigned. Being become very 
weak and helpless, it was thought necessary that a man 
should watch with him all night; and one was found in the 
neighbourhood, who, for half a crown a night, undertook 
to sit up with and assist him. When the man had left the 
room, he, in the presence and hearing of Mr. Strahan and 
Mr. Langton, asked me where I meant to bury him. I 
answered, doubtless, in Westminster Abbey: " If," said 
he, " my executors think it proper to mark the spot of my 
interment by a stone, let it be so placed as to protect my 
body from injury." I assured him it should be done. Be- 
fore my departure, he desired Mr. Langton to put into my 
hands money to the amount of upwards of 100/., with a 
direction to keep it till called for. 

10th. This day at noon I saw him again. He said to 
me, that the male nurse to whose care I had committed 
him was unfit for the office. " He is," said he, " an idiot, 
as awkward as a turnspit just put into the wheel, and as 
sleepy as a dormouse." Mr. Cruikshank came into the 
room, and looking on his scarified leg, saw no sign of a 
mortification. 

11th. At noon, I found him dozing, and would not 
disturb him. 

12th. Saw him again; found him very weak, and, as 
he said, unable to pray. 

13th. At noon I called at the house, but went not into 
his room, being told that he was dozing. I was further 
informed by the servants that his appetite was totally gone, 
and that he could take no sustenance. At eight in the 
evening of the same day, word was brought me by Mr. 
Sastres, to whom, in his last moments, he uttered these 
words, ' Jam moriturus,' that at a quarter past seven, he 

papers to which he, as residuary legatee, became entitled. It is 
painful to see in a man of Sir J. Hawkins's station, such rancour 
as prompted the imputation made in the foregoing note against 
the poor woman, Barber's wife, whose moral conduct, whatever 
it may have been, had surely nothing to do with Sir John Haw- 
kins's squabbles with her husband. — C] 



158 JOHNSONIANA. 

had, without a groan, or the least sign of pain or uneasiness, 
yielded his last breath. 

At eleven, the same evening, Mr. Langton came to me, 
and, in an agony of mind, gave me to understand, that our 
friend had wounded himself in several parts of the body. 
I was shocked at the news; but, upon being told that he 
had not touched any vital part, was easily able to account 
for an action, which would else have given us the deepest 
concern. The fact was, that conceiving himself to be full 
of water, he had done that which he had so often solicited 
his medical assistants to do, — made two or three incisions 
in his lower limbs, vainly hoping for some relief from the 
flux that might follow. 

Early the next morning, Frank came to me; and, 
being desirous of knowing all the particulars of this 
transaction, I interrogated him very strictly concerning 
it, and received from him answers to the following 
effect: — 

That, at eight in the morning of the preceding day, 
upon going into the bed-chamber, his master, being in 
bed, ordered him to open a cabinet, and give him a 
drawer in it; that he did so, and that out of it his master 
took a case of lancets, and, choosing one of tliem, would 
have conveyed it into the bed, which Frank and a young 
man that sat up with him seeing, they seized his hand, 
and entreated him not to do a rash action: he said he 
would not; but drawing his hand under the bed-clothes, 
they saw his arm move. Upon this they turned down 
the clothes, and saw a great effusion of blood, which soon 
stopped; that soon after, he got at a pair of scissors that lay 
in a drawer by him, and plunged them deep in the calf 
of each leg; that immediately they sent for Mr. Cruik- 
shank and the apothecary, and they, or one of them, 
dressed the wounds; that he then fell into that dozing which 
carried him off; that it was conjectured he lost eight or 
ten ounces of blood; and that this effusion brought on 
the dozing, though his pulse continued firm till three 
o'clock. 

That this act was not done to hasten (*) his end, but 

(*) [The clumsy solemnity with which Hawkins thinks it neces- 
sary tu defend Dr. Johnson from the suspicion of endeavouring lo 



HAWKINS. 159 

to discharge the water that he conceived to be in him, 
I have not the least doubt. A dropsy was his disease; he 
looked upon himself as a bloated carcass; and, to attain 
the power of easy respiration, would have undergone any 
degree of temporary pain. He dreaded neither punctures 
nor incisions, and, indeed, defied the trochar and the 
lancet: he had often reproached his physicians and surgeon 
with cowardice! and when Mr. Cruikshank scarified his 
leg, he cried out, " Deeper, deeper; I will abide the con- 
sequence: you are afraid of your reputation, but that is 
nothing to me." To those about him he said, " You all 
pretend to love me, but you do not love me as well as I 
myself do." 

I have been thus minute in regarding the particulars of 
his last moments, because I wished to attract attention to 
the conduct of this great man, under the most trying cir- 
cumstances human nature is subject to. Many persons 
have appeared possessed of more serenity of mind in this 
awful scene; some have remained unmoved at the dissolu- 
tion of the vital union; and it may be deemed a discourage- 
ment from the severe practice of religion, that Dr. Johnson, 
whose whole life was a preparation for his death, and a 
conflict with natural infirmity, was disturbed with terror at 
the prospect of the grave. (*) Let not this relax the cir- 
cumspection of any one. It is true, that natural firmness 
of spirit, or the confidence of hope may buoy up the mind 
to the last; but however heroic an undaunted death may 
appear, it is not what we should pray for. As Johnson 
lived the life of the righteous, his end was that of a 
Christian; he strictly fulfilled the injunction of the apostle, 
to work out his salvation with fear and trembling; and 

shorten his life by an act manifestly, avowedly, and even passion- 
ately meant io prolong il, is certainly very offensive; but it hardly, 
I think, justifies Mr. Boswell's suspicions that there was some 
malevolence at the bottom of the defence. — C] 

(*) [Hawkins seems to confound two different periods. At the 
first appearance of danger. Dr. Johnson exhibited great, and per- 
haps gloomy anxiety, which, however, under the gradual effect 
of religious contemplations and devotional exercises, gave way 
to more comfortable hopes, suggested by a lively faith in the pro- 
pitiatory merits of his Redeemer. In this tranquillizing disposi- 
tion the last days of his life seem to have been passed, and in this 
Cliristian confidence it is believed that he died.— C] 



160 JOHNSONIANA. 

though his doubts and scruples were certainly very dis- 
tressing to himself, they give his friends a pious hope, that 
he who added to almost all the virtues of Christianity that 
religious humility which its great teacher inculcated, will, 
in the fulness of time, receive the reward promised to a 
patient continuance in well-doing. 



161 



Part III. 

ANECDOTES, 
BY THOMAS TYERS, ESQ. (*) 



286. Christopher Smart. 

Christopher Smart was at first well received by John- 
son. I owe my acquaintance with him (t), which lasted 

(*) [From a biographical sketch of Dr. Johnson, published in 
1785. Mr. Tyers very modestly calls his pamphlet a Sketch; and 
he certainly writes, as Mr. Boswell says, in a careless and de- 
sultory style; but there seems, on examination, no reason to doubt 
the accuracy of his facts; indeed, all the other biographers have 
either borrowed from Tyers, or have told the same stories in 
the same way as he has done, and thus vouched for his general 
accuracy. — C.] 

(t) [For an account of "Tom Tyers," as Johnson has always 
called him, see Croker, vol. i. p. 304. His literary qualifications 
are thus pleasantly described in the 48th number of " The Idler," 
a circumstance pointed out to Mr. Nichols by Dr. Johnson him- 
self: — " Learning is generally confessed to be desirable, and there 
are some who fancy themselves always busy in acquiring it. Of 
these ambulatory students, one of the most busy is my friend Tom 
Restless. Tom has long had a mind to be a man of knowledge: 
but he does not care to spend much time among authors; for he is 
of opinion that few books deserve the labour of perusal. Tom 
has, therefore, found another way to wisdom. When he rises, he 
goes into a coifee-house, where he creeps so near to men whom he 
takes to be reasouers, as to hear their discourse; and endeavours 
to remember something, which, when it has been sti'ained through 
Tom's head, is so near to nothing, that what it once was cannot 
be discovered. This he carries round from friend to friend, 
through a circle of visits, till, hearing what each says upon the 
question, he becomes able, at dinner, to say a little himself; and, 
11 



1 62 JOHNSONIANA. 

thirty years, to the introckiction of that bard. Johnson, 
whose hearing was not always good, understood Smart 
to call me by the name of Thyer, that eminent scholar, 
librarian of Manchester, and a nonjuror. This mistake 
was rather beneficial than otherwise to me. Johnson 
had been much indisposed all that day, and repeated a 
psalm he had just translated, during his affliction, into 
Latin verse, and did not commit it to paper. For so re- 
tentive was his memory, that he could always recover 
whatever he lent to that faculty. Smart, in return, recited 
some of his own Latin compositions. He had translated 
with success, and to Mr. Pope's satisfaction, his " St. 
Cecilian Ode." 

287. Music. — Painting. 

Though Johnson composed so harmoniously in Latin 
and English, he had no ear for music; and though he lived 
in such habits of intimacy with Sir Joshua Reynolds, and 
once intended to have written the lives of the painters, he 
had no eye, nor perhaps taste, for a picture or a landscape. 

288. Reading. 

Johnson preferred conversation to books; but when 
driven to the refuge of reading by being left alone, he then 
attached himself to that amusement. By his innumerable 
quotations, one would suppose, that he must have read 
more books than any man in England; but he declared 
that supposition was a mistake in his favour. He owned 
he had hardly read a book through. Churchill used to 
say, having heard perhaps of his confession, as a boast, that 
" if Johnson had only read a few books, he could not be 
the author of his own works." His opinion, however, 
was, that he who reads most, has the chance of knowing 
most; but he declared that the perpetual task of reading was 
as bad as the slavery in the mine, or the labour at the oar. 

as every great genius relaxes himself among his inferiors, he 
meets with some who wonder how any mortal man can talk so 
wisely. At night he has a new feast prepared for his intellects; 
he always runs to some society, or club, where he half hears what 
he would but half understand; goes home pleased with the con- 
sciousness of a day well spent ; lies down full of ideas, and rises 
in the morning, empty as before."] 



TYERS. 163 



289. Greek. 



He owned that many knew more Greek than himself; but 
his grammar, he said, would show that he had once taken 
pains. Sir William Jones, one of the most enlightened of 
the sons of men, as Johnson described him, has often de- 
clared that he knew a great deal of Greek. 

290. Churchill. — Cock Lane Ghost. 

Churchill challenged Johnson to combat; satire the wea- 
pon. Johnson never took up the gauntlet or replied; for 
he thought it imbecoming him to defend himself against an 
author who might be resolved to have the last word. He 
Avas content to let his enemies feed upon him as long as 
they could. I have heard Churchill declare, that he thought 
Johnson's poems of ' London,' and the ' Vanity of Human 
Wishes,' full of admirable verses, and that all his composi- 
tions were diamonds of the first water; but he wanted a 
subject for his pen and for raillery, and so introduced Pom- 
poso into his descriptions; " for, with other wise folks, he 
sat up with the Ghost." 

291. Tea. 

Come when you would, early or late (for he desired to 
be called from bed, when a visitor was at the door), the 
tea-table was sure to be spread. " TE veniente die, TE 
deccdente.'" With tea he cheered himself in the morning; 
with tea he solaced himself in the evening; for in these, or 
in equivalent words, he expressed himself in a printed let- 
ter to Jonas Hanway (*), who had just told the public, that 
tea was the ruin of the nation, and of the nerves of every 
one who drank it. The pun upon his favourite liquor he 
heard with a smile. 

292. Streatham. — Mrs. Thrale. 
Johnson formed at Streatham a room for a library, and 

(*) [Johnson, in his review of Hanway's " Essay on Tea," de- 
cribes himself as " a hardened and shameless tea-drinker, who has 
for twenty years diluted his meals with only the infusion of this 
fascinating plant, whose kettle has scarcely time to cool ; who 
with tea amuses the evening, with tea solaces the midnight, and 
■with tea welcomes the morning."] 



164 JOHNSONIANA. 

increased by his recommendation the number of books. 
Here he was to be found (himself a Hbrary), when a friend 
called upon him; and by him the friend was sure to be 
introduced to the dinner-table, which Mrs, Thrale kncAv 
how to spread with the utmost plenty and elegance; and 
which was often adorned with such guests, that to dine 
there was epulis accumbere diviim. Of Mrs. Thrale, if 
mentioned at all, less cannot be said, than that, in one of 
the latest opinions of Dr. Johnson, " if she was not the 
wisest woman in the world, she was undoubtedly one of 
the wittiest." Besides a natural vivacity in conversation, 
she had reading enough, and the " gods had made her 
poetical." Her poem of " The Three Warnings" (the 
subject she owned not to be original), is highly interesting 
and serious, and literally comes home to everybody's busi- 
ness and bosom. She took, or caused such care to be 
taken, of Johnson, during an illness of continuance, that 
Goldsmith told her, " he owed his recovery to her atten- 
tion." She moreover taught him to lay up something of 
his income every year. 

293. The Dictionary — mid Rambler. 

During the printing of his Dictionary, the Ramblers 
came out periodically: for he cjuld do more than one thing 
at a time. He declared, that he wrote them by way of 
relief from his application to his Dictionary, and for the 
reward. He told me, that he had no expectation they 
would have been so much read and admired. What was 
amusement to him was instruction to others. Goldsmith 
declared, that a system of morals might be drawn from 
these essays; this idea has been taken up and executed by 
a publication in an alphabetical series of moral maxims. (*) 

294. LevetVs Epitaph. 
His dependant, Levett, died suddenly under his roof. 

(*) [" The Beauties of Johnson." Mr. Boswell states, that Dr. 
Johnson was gratified by seeing this selection, and wrote to the 
publisher the following note: — " Mr. Johnson sends compliments 
to Mr. Kearsley, and begs the favour of seeing him as soon as he 
can. Mr. Kearsley is desired to bring with him the last edition 
of what he has honoured with the name of Beauties. May 20, 
1782."] 



TYERS. 165 

He preserved his name from oblivion, by writing an epi- 
taph for him (*), which shows that his poetical fire was not 
extinguished, and is so appropriate, that it could belong to 
no other person in the world. Johnson said, that the re- 
mark of appropriation was just criticism: his friend was 
induced to pronounce, that he would not have so good an 
epitaph written for himself. Pope has nothing equal to it 
in his sepulchral poetry. 

295. Johnson's Library. 

Johnson had a large but not a splendid library, near five 
thousand volumes. Many authors, not in hostility with 
him, presented him with their works. But his study did 
not contain half his books. He possessed the chair that 
belonged to the Ciceronian Dr. King of Oxford, which was 
given him by his friend Vansittart. It answers the pur- 
poses of reading and writing, by night or by day; and is as 
valuable in all respects as the chair of Ariosto, as delineated 
in the preface to Hoole's liberal translation of that poet. 
Since the rounding of this period, intelligence is brought, 
that this literary chair is purchased by Mr. Hoole. Relics 
are venerable things, and are only not to be worshipped. 
On the reading-chair of Mr. Speaker Onslow, a part of this 
historical sketch Avas written. 

296. Late Hours. 

Night was his time for composition. Indeed, he lite- 
rally turned night into day. Nodes vigilahat ad ipsum 
mane; but not like Tigellius in Horace. Perhaps he never 
was a good sleeper, and, while all the rest of the world 
was in bed, he chose his lamp, in the words of Milton, — 

"ia midnight hour 

"Were seen in some high lonely tower." 

He wrote and lived perhaps at one time only from day 
to day, and, according to vulgar expression, from sheet to 
sheet. There is cause to believe, he would not have writ- 
ten unless under the pressure of necessity. " Magister 
artis ingenique largitor venter,^'' says Persius. He wrote 
to live, and, luckily for mankind, lived a great many years 
to write. 

(*) [See Nos. 536 and 585.] 



166 JOHNSONIANA. 

297. Strong Liquors. 

It never was said of him, that he was overtaken with 
liquor, — a declaration Bishop Hoadly makes of himself. 
But he owned, that he drank his bottle at a certain time of 
life. Like Solomon, Avho tried so many things for curiosity 
and delight, he renounced strong liquors; and he might 
have said, as that king is made to do by Prior, — 

" I drank, I liked it not; 'iwas rage, 'twas noise, 
An airy scene of transitory joys." 

298. Rapid Composition. 

He asserted, and valued himself upon it, that he wrote 
the " Life of Savage" in six-and-thirty hours. In one night 
he also composed, after finishing an evening in Holborn, 
his " Hermit of Teneriffe." He sat up a whole night to 
compose the preface to the " Preceptor." 

299. Gesticulations. 

Though he seemed to be athletic as Milo himself, and 
in his younger days performed several feats of activity, he 
was to the last a convulsionary . He has often stepped 
aside to let nature do what she would with him. His 
gestures, which were a degree of St. Vitus's dance, in the 
street attracted the notice of many — the stare of the vulgar, 
but the compassion of the better sort. I have often looked 
another way, as the companions of Peter the Great were 
used to do, while he was under the short paroxysm. (*) 

300. Conversation. 

Though his time seemed to be bespoke, and quite en- 
grossed, his house was always open to all his acquaintance, 
new and old. His amanuensis has given up his pen, the 
printer's devil has waited on the stairs for a proof sheet, 
and the press has often stood still, while his visitors Avere 
delighted and instructed. No subject ever came amiss to 
him. He could tcansfer his thoughts from one thing to 
another with the most accommodating facility. He had 
the art, for which Locke was famous, of leading people to 

(*) [See No. 353.] 



TYERS. 167 

talk on their favourite subjects, and on what they knew 
best. By this he acquired a great deal of information. 
What he once heard he rarely forgot. They gave him 
their best conversation, and he generally made them pleased 
with themselves, for endeavouring to please him. 

Poet Smart used to relate, " that his first conversation 
with Johnson was of such variety and length, that it began 
with poetry and ended at fluxions." He always talked as 
if he was talking upon oath. He was the wisest person, 
and had the most knowledge in ready cash, that I ever had 
the honour to be acquainted with. Johnson's advice was 
consulted on all occasions. He was known to be a good 
casuist, and therefore had many cases submitted for his 
judgment. His conversation, in the judgment of several, 
was thought to be equal to his correct writings. Perhaps 
the tongue will throw out more animated expressions 
than the pen. He said the most common things in the 
newest manner. He always commanded attention and re- 
gard. His person, though unadorned with dress, and even 
deformed by neglect, made you expect something, and you 
were hardly ever disappointed. His manner was interest- 
ing: the tone of his voice, and the sincerity of his expres- 
sions, even when they did not captivate your affections, or 
carry conviction, prevented contempt. If the line, by Pope, 
on his father, can be applied to Johnson, it is charac- 
teristic of him, who never swore, nor told a lie. If the 
first part is not confined to the oath of allegiance (*), itAvill 
be useful to insert it: — 

" Nor dared an oath, nor hazarded a lie." 

It must be owned, his countenance, on some occasions, 
resembled too much the medallic likeness of Maglia- 
bechi (t), as exhibited before the printed account of him by 
Mr. Spence. No man dared to take liberties with him, nor 
flatly contradict him; for he could repel any attack, having 

(*) [Mr. Tyers seems to mean that the oath of allegiance is the 
only justifiable oath; and, in allusion, perhaps, to Johnson's po- 
litical principles, he insinuates, that even that oath he would not 
have willingly taken.— C] | 

(t) [Librarian to the Grand Dukes of Florence, and celebrated 
for vast erudition and extreme slovenliness. He died in 1714, 
aged 80.— C] 



168 JOHNSONIANA. 

always about him the weapons of ridicule, of wit, and of 
argument. It must be owned, that some who had the 
desire to be admitted to him thought him too dogmatical, 
and as exacting too much homage to his opinions, and 
came no more. For they said while he presided in his 
library, surrounded by his admirers, he would, "likeCato, 
give his little senate laws." 

301. Knowledge of Life. 

He had great knowledge in the science of human nature, 
and of the fashions and customs of life, and knew the 
world well. He had often in his mouth this line of Pope: — 

" The proper study of mankind is man." 

He was desirous of surveying life in all its modes and 
forms, and in all climates. He once offered to attend his 
friend Vansittart (*) to India, who was invited there to 
make a fortime; but it did not take place. He talked 
much of travelling into Poland, to observe the life of the 
Palatines, the account of which struck his curiosity very 
much. 

302. Johnson's Benevolence. 

His benevolence to mankind was known to all who 
knew him. Though so declared a friend to the church 
of England, and even a friend to the convocation, it 
assuredly was not in his wish to persecute for speculative 
notions. He used to say, he had no quarrel with any 
order of men, unless they disbelieved in revelation and a 
future state. He would, indeed, have sided with Sache- 
verell against Daniel Burgess, if he thought the church 
was in danger. His hand and his heart were always open 
to charity. The objects under his OAvn roof were only a 
few of the subjects for relief. He Avas ever at the head of 
subscription in cases of distress. His guinea, as he said 

(*) [Dr. Johnson had some thoughts of going to India with 
another friend (Mr. Fowke); but this proposition as to Mr. Van- 
sittart, is nowhere else, that I have seen, alluded to. Dr. Vansit- 
tart, of Oxford, was a great friend of Johnson's, and it is possible 
that he may have been invited by his younger brother, Mr. Henry 
Vansittart, when governor of Bengal, to join him in India; and 
Dr. Vansittart might perhaps have had some idea of including 
Johnson in the arrangement.— C.] 



TYERS. 169 

of another man of a bountiful disposition, was always 
ready. He wrote an exhortation to public bounty. He 
drew up a paper to recommend the French prisoners, in 
the last war but one, to the English benevolence; which 
was of service. He implored the hand of benevolence for 
others, even when he almost seemed a proper object of it 
himself. 

303. Johnson's Eyesight. 

His eyesight was not good; but he never wore spec- 
tacles; not on account of such a ridiculous vow as Swift 
made not to use them, but because he was assured they 
would be of no service to him. He once declared that 
he " never saw the human face divine," He saw better 
with one eye than the other. (*) Latterly, perhaps, he 
meant to save his eyes, and did not read so much as he 
otherwise would. 

304. Tour to Italy. — Dr. Brocklesby. — Lord Thurloiv. 

Johnson, in 1783, meditated a tour into Italy or Por- 
tugal, for the sake of the climate. But Dr. Brocklesby, 
his friend and physician, conjured him, by every argument 
in his power, not to go abroad in the state of his health; 
but, if he was resolved on the first, and Avished for some- 
thing additional to his income, desired he would permit 
him to accommodate him out of his fortune with one 
hundred pounds a year, during his travels. The reply to 
this generosity Avas to this effect: — " That he Avould not 
be obliged to any person's liberality, but to his king's." 
The continuance of this desire to go abroad occasioned 
the application for an increase of pension, that is so 
honourable to those who applied for it, and to the lord 

(*) [" Mr. Tyers informs us" (says a writer in the Gent. Mag. 
V. liv. p. 998, probably Mr. Stevens), "that Dr. Johnson saw bet- 
ter with one eye than the other, but forbears to account for this 
unequal ability in his organs of sight. I beg therefore at once to 
supply his deficiency, and confirm his valuable anecdote, by as- 
suring him his late friend had, for many years, lost one of his 
eyes, and consequently could only see with its companion. He 
himself did not recollect the exact period when he became ac- 
quainted with this visual defect, which, as it happened through 
no external violence, might, for some time, have escaped even his 
observation."] 



170 JOHNSONIAN A. 

chancellor, who gave him leave to draw on his banker for 
any sum. At last he said, " If I am worse, I cannot go; if 
I am better, I need not go; but if I continue neither better 
nor worse, I am as well where I am." 

305. Johnson's Death. 

Johnson was all his life preparing himself for death: 
but particularly in the last stage of his asthma and dropsy. 
" Take care of your soul — don't live such a life as I have 
done — don't let your business or dissipation make you 
neglect your sabbath" — were now his constant inculca- 
tions. Private and public prayer, when his visitors were 
his audience, were his constant exercises. He died by "a 
quiet and silent expiration," to use his own words on 
Milton, and his funeral Avas splendidly and numerously 
attended. The friends of the Doctor were happy on his 
easy departure, for they apprehended he might have died 
hard. At the end of this sketch, it may be hinted, that 
Johnson told me — for he saw I always had my eye and 
my ear upon him — that, at some time or other, I might 
be called upon to assist in a posthumous account of him. 



171 



Part IV. 

ANECDOTES, 
BY J. HOOLE, ESQ. (*) 

306. Johnson's Last Illness. 

Saturday, Nov. 20, 1784. — This evening, about eight 
o'clock, I paid a visit to my dear friend Dr. Johnson, 
whom I found very ill and in great dejection of spirits. 
We had a most afiecting conversation on the subject of re- 
ligion, in which he exhorted me, with the greatest warmth 
of kindness, to attend closely to every religious duty, and 
particularly enforced the obligation of private prayer and 
receiving the sacrament. He desired me to stay that night 
and join in prayer with him; adding, that he always went 
to prayer every night with his man Francis. He conjured 
me to read and meditate upon the Bible, and not to throw 
it aside for a play or a novel. He said he had himself 
lived in great negligence of religion and worship for forty 
years; that he had neglected to read his Bible, and had 
often reflected what he could hereafter say when he should 
be asked why he had not read it. He begged me re- 
peatedly to let his present situation have due effect upon 
me; and advised me, when I got home, to note down in 
writing what had passed between us, adding, that what a 
man writes in that manner dwells upon his mind. He said 

(*) [Mr. Hoole was a clerk in the India House, but devoted his 
leisure to literature. He published translations of Tasso's Jeru- 
salem and Ariosto's Orlando.— He died in 1803.— C] 



172 JOHNSONIANA. 

many things that I cannot now recollect, but all delivered 
with the utmost fervour of religious zeal and, personal af- 
feetian. Between nine and ten o'clock his servant Francis 
came up stairs; he then said we would all go to prayers, 
and desiring me to kneel down by his bed-side, he re- 
peated several prayers with great devotion. I then took 
my leave. He then pressed me to think of all he had said, 
and to commit it to writing. I assured him I would. He 
seized my hand with much warmth, and repeated, " Pro- 
mise me you will do it:" on which we parted, and I en- 
gaged to see him the next day. 

Sunday, Nov. 21. — About noon I again visited him; 
found him rather better and easier, his spirits more raised, 
and his conversation more disposed to general subjects. 
When I came in, he asked if I had done what he desired 
(meaning the noting down what passed the night before); 
and upon my saying that I had, he pressed my hand and 
said earnestly, " Thank you." Our discourse then grew 
more cheerful. He told me, with apparent pleasure, that 
he heard the Empress of Russia had ordered " The Ram- 
bler" to be translated into the Russian language, and that a 
copy would be sent him. Before we parted, he put into 
my hands a little book, by Fleetwood, on the Sacrament, 
which he told me he had been the means of introducing to 
the TJniversity of Oxford by recommending it to a young 
student there. 

Monday, Nov. 22. — Visited the Doctor; found him 
seemingly better of his complaints, but extremely low and 
dejected. I sat by him till he fell asleep, and soon after 
left him, as he seemed little disposed to talk; and, on my 
going away, he said, emphatically, " I am very poorly 
indeed!" 

Tuesday, Nov. 23. — Called about eleven; the Doctor 
not up: Mr. Gardiner (*) in the dining-room; the Doctor 
soon came to us, and seemed more cheerful than the day 
before. He spoke of his design to invite a Mrs. Hall (t) 
to be with him, and to offer her Mrs. Williams's room. 
Called again about three: found him quite oppressed with 
company that morning, therefore left him directly. 

(*) [No doubt an error of the press for Mrs. Gardiner. — C] 
(t) [Sister of the Rev. John Wesley.— C] 



HOOLE. 173 

Wednesday, Nov. 24. — Called about seven in the even- 
ing: found him very ill and very low indeed. He said a 
thought had struck him that his rapid decline of health and 
strength might be partly owing to the town air, and spoke 
of getting a lodging at Islington. I sat with him till past 
nine, and then took my leave. 

Thursday, Nov. 25. — About three in the afternoon 
was told that he had desired that day to see no company. 
In the evening about eight, called with Mr. Nicol (*), 
and, to our great surprise, we found him then setting out 
for Islington, to the Rev. Mr. Strahan's. He could scarce 
speak. We Avent with him down the court to the coach. 
He was accompanied by his servant Frank and Mr. Lowe 
the painter. I offered myself to go with him, but he de- 
clined it. 

Friday, Nov. 26. — Called at his house about eleven; 
heard he was much better, and had a better night than he 
had known a great while, and was expected home that day. 
Called again in the afternoon — not so well as he was, nor 
expected home that night. 

Saturday, Nov. 27. — Called again about noon; heard 
he was much worse; went immediately to Islington, where 
I found him extremely bad, and scarce able to speak, with 
the asthma. Sir John Hawkins, the Rev. Mr. Strahan, 
and Mrs. Strahan, were with him. Observing that we 
said little, he desired that we Avould not constrain our- 
selves, though he was not able to talk with us. Soon after 
he said he had something to say to Sir John Hawkins, on 
which we immediately went down into the parlour. Sir 
John soon followed us, and said lie had been speaking 
about his will. Sir John started the idea of proposing to 
him to make it on the spot; that Sir John should dictate 
it, and that I should write it. He went up to propose it, 
and soon came down with the Doctor's acceptance. The 
will was then begun; but before we proceeded far, it being 
necessary, on account of some alteration, to begin again, 
Sir John asked the Doctor whether he would choose to 
make any introductory declaration respecting his faith. 
The Doctor said he would. Sir John further asked if he 
would make any declaration of his being of the church 

(*) Mr. George Nicol, of Pall Mall.— J, Hoole. 



174 JOHNSONIANA. 

of England: to which the Doctor said '^NoP^ but, taking 
a pen, he wrote on a paper the following words, which he 
delivered to Sir John, desiring him to keep it: — " I commit 
to the infinite mercies of Almighty God my soul, polluted 
with many sins; but purified, I trust, with repentance 
and the death of Jesus Christ." While he Avas at Mr. 
Strahan's, Dr. Brocklesby came in, and Dr. Johnson put 
the question to him, whether he thought he could live six 
weeks, to Avhich Dr. Brocklesby returned a very doubtful 
answer, and soon left us. After dinner the will was finish- 
ed, and about six we came to town in Sir John Hawkins's 
carriage; Sir John, Dr. Johnson, Mr. Ryland (who came 
in after dinner), and myself. The Doctor appeared much 
better in the way home, and talked pretty cheerfully. 
Sir John took leave of us at the end of Bolt Court, and 
Mr. Ryland and myself went to his house with the Doctor, 
who began to grow very ill again. Mr. Ryland soon 
left us, and I remained with the Doctor till Mr. Sastres 
came in. We stayed with him about an hour, when we 
left him on his saying he had some business to do. 
Mr. Sastres and myself went together homewards, discours- 
ing on the dangerous state of our friend, when it was 
resolved that Mr. Sastres should write to Dr. Heberden; 
but going to his house that night, he fortunately found 
him at home, and he promised to be with Dr. Johnson 
next morning. 

Sunday, Nov. 28. — Went to Dr. Johnson's about two 
o'clock: met Mrs. Hoole coming from thence, as he was 
asleep: took her back with me: found Sir John Hawkins 
with him. The Doctor's conversation tolerably cheerful. 
Sir John reminded him that he had expressed a desire to 
leave some small memorials to his friends, particularly a 
Polyglot Bible to Mr. Langton; and asked if they should 
add the codicil then. The Doctor replied, " he had forty 
things to add, but coidd not do it at that time." Sir John 
then took his leave. Mr. Sastres came next into the dining 
room, where I was with Mrs. Hoole. Dr. Johnson hearing 
that Mrs. Hoole was in the next room, desired to see her. 
He received her with great affection, took her by the hand, 
and said nearly these words: — " I feel great tenderness for 
you; think of the situation in which you see me, profit by 
it, and God Almighty keep you for Jesus Christ's sake, 



HOOLE. 175 

Amen." He then asked if we would both stay and dine 
with him. Mrs. Hoole said she could not; but I agreed 
to stay. Upon my saying to the Doctor that Dr. Heber- 
den would be Avith him that morning, his answer was, 
" God has called me, and Dr. Heberden comes too late." 
Soon after this Dr. Heberden came. While he was there, 
we heard them, from the other room, in earnest discourse, 
and found that they were talking over the aft'air (*) of 

the K — g and C r. We overheard Dr. Heberden 

say, "All you did was extremely proper." After Dr. He- 
berden was gone, Mr. Sastres and I returned into the 
chamber. Dr. Johnson complained that sleep this day 
had powerful dominion over him, that he waked with great 
difficulty, and that probably he should go off' in one of these 
paroxysms. Afterwards he said that he hoped his sleep 
was the effect of opium taken some days before, which 
might not be Avorked off". We dined together — the Doc- 
tor, Mr. Sastres, Mrs. Davies, and myself. He ate a 
pretty good dinner with seeming appetite, but appearing 
rather impatient; and being asked unnecessary and frivo- 
lous questions, he said he often thought of Macbeth, — 
"Question enrages him." He retired immediately after 
dinner, and we soon went, at his desire (Mr. Sastres and 
myself), and sat with him till tea. He said little, but dozed 
at times. At six he ordered tea for us, and we went out to 
drink it with Mrs. Davies; but the Doctor drank none. 
The Rev. Dr. Taylor of Ashbourne, came soon after; and 
Dr. Johnson desired our attendance at prayers, which were 
read by Dr. Taylor. Mr. Ryland came and sat some time 
with him: he thought him much better. Mr. Sastres and 
I continued with him the remainder of the evening, when 
he exhorted Mr. Sastres in nearly these words: — " There 
is no one who has shown me more attention than you have 
done, and it is now right you should claim some attention 
from me. You are a young man, and are to struggle 
through life: you are in a profession that I dare say you 
will exercise with great fidelity and innocence; but let me 
exhort you always to think of my situation, which must 
one day be yours: always remember that life is short, and 

(*) This alludes to an application made for an increase to his 
pension, to enable him to go to Italy. — J. Hoole. 



176 JOHNSONIANA. 

that eternity never ends! I say nothing- of your religion; 
for if you conscientiously keep to it, I have little doubt but 
you may be saved: if you read the controversy, I think 
we have the right on our side; but if you do not read it, 
be not persuaded, from any worldly consideration, to alter 
the religion in which you were educated: change not, but 
from conviction of reason," He then most strongly en- 
forced the motives of virtue and piety from the considera- 
tion of a future state of reward and punishment, and con- 
cluded with, " Remember all this, and God bless you! 
Write down what I have said — I think you are the third 
person I have bid do this." (*) At ten o'clock he dismissed 
us, thanking us for a visit which he said could not have 
been very pleasant to us. 

Monday, Nov. 29. — Called with my son about eleven: 
saw the Doctor, who said, " You must not now stay;" but, 
as we were going away, he said, "I will get Mr. Hoole 
to come next Wednesday and read the Litany to me, and 
do you and Mrs. Hoole come with him." He appeared 
very ill. Returning from the city I called again to inquire, 
and heard that Dr. Butter was Avith him. In the evening, 
about eight, called again, and just saw him; bvit did not 
stay, as Mr. Langton was with him on business. I met 
Sir Joshua Reynolds going away. 

Tuesday, Nov. 30. — Called twice this morning, but did 
not see him: he was much the same. In the evening, be- 
tween six and seven, went to his house: found there Mr. 
Langton, Mr. Sastres, and Mr. Ryland: the Doctor being 
asleep in the chamber, we went all to tea and coffee; when 
the Doctor came in to us rather cheerful, and entering said, 
" Dear gentlemen, how do you do?" He drank coffee, 
and in the course of the conversation, said that he recol- 
lected a poem of his, made some years ago on a young 
gentleman coming of age.(t) He repeated the whole with 
great spirit: it consisted of about fifteen or sixteen stanzas 
of four lines, in alternate rhyme. He said he had only 
repeated it once since he composed it, and that he never 
gave but one copy. He said several excellent things that 
evening, and among the rest, that " scruples made many 

(*) The other two were Dr. Brocklesby and myself. — J. Hoole. 
(+) [See No. 91.] 



HOOLE. 177 

men miserable, but few men good." He spoke of the af- 
fectation that men had to accuse themselves of petty faults 
or weaknesses, in order to exalt themselves into notice for 
any extraordinary talents which they might possess; and 
instanced Waller, which he said he would record if he 
lived »to revise his life. Waller was accustomed to say 
that his memory was so bad he would sometimes forget to 
repeat his grace at table, or the Lord's Prayer, perhaps 
that people might wonder Avhat he did else of great mo- 
ment; for the Doctor observed, that no man takes upon 
himself small blemishes without supposing that great abili- 
ties are attributed to him; and that, in short, this affectation 
of candour or modesty was but another kind of indirect 
self-praise, and had its foundation in vanity. Frank bring- 
ing him a note, as he opened it he said an odd thought 
struck him, that " one should receive no letters in the 
grave." (*) His talk was in general very serious and de- 
vout, though occasionally cheerful: he said, " You are all 
serious men, and I will tell you something. About two 
years since I feared that I had neglected God, and that 
then I had not a mind to give him; on which I set about 
to read Thomas a, Kempis in Low Dutch, which I accom- 
plished, and thence I judged that my mind was not im- 
paired. Low Dutch having no affinity with any of the 
languages which I knew." With respect to his recovery, 
he seemed to think it hopeless. There was to be a con- 
sultation of physicians next day: he wished to have his 
legs scarified to let out the water; but this his medical 
friends opposed, and he submitted to their opinion, though 
he said he was not satisfied. At half past eight he dismiss- 
ed us all but Mr. Langton. I first asked him if my son 
should attend him next day, to read the Litany, as he had 
desired; but he declined it on account of the expected con- 
sultation. We went away, leaving Mr. Langton and Mr. 
Desmoulins, a young man who was employed in copying 
his Latin epigrams. 

Wednesday, Dec. 1. — At his house in the evening: drank 
tea and coffee with Mr. Sastres, Mr. Desmoulins, and Mr. 

(*) This note was from Mr. Davies the bookseller, and men- 
tioned a present of some pork; upon which the Doctor said, in a 
manner that seemed as if he thought it ill-timed, " Too much of 
this," or some such expression. — J. Hoole. 
12 



178 JOHNSONIANA. 

Hall: (*) went into the Doctor's chamber after tea, when 
he gave me an epitaph to copy, written by him for his 
father, mother, and brother. He continued much the same. 

Thursday, Dec. 2. — Called in the morning, and left the 
epitaph: with him in the evening about seven; found Mr. 
Langton and Mr. Desmoulins; did not see the Doctor; he 
was in his chamber, and afterwards engaged with Dr. 
Scott. 

Friday, Dec. 3. — Called; but he wished not to see any 
body. Consultations of physicians to be held that day: 
called again in the evening; found Mr. Langton with him; 
Mr. Sastres and I went together into his chamber; he was 
extremely low. " I am very bad indeed, dear gentlemen," 
he said; " very bad, very low, very cold, and I think I 
find my life to fail." In about a quarter of an hour he 
dismissed Mr. Sastres and me; but called me back again, 
and said that next Sunday, if he lived, he designed to take 
the sacrament, and wished me, my wife, and son to be 
there. We left Mr. Langton with him. 

Saturday, Dec. 4. — Called on him about three: he was 
much the same; did not see him, he had much company 
that day. Called in the evening with Mr. Sastres about 
eight; found he was not disposed for company; Mr. Lang- 
ton with him; did not see him. 

Sunday, Dec. 5. — Went to Bolt Court with Mrs. Hoole 
after eleven; found there Sir John Hawkins, Rev. Mr. 
Strahan, Mrs. Gardiner, and Mr. Desmoulins, in the dining- 
room. After some time the Doctor come to us from 
the chamber, and saluted us all, thanking us all for this 
visit to him. He said he found himself very bad, but 
hoped he should go well through the duty which he was 
about to do. The sacrament was then administered to all 
present, Frank being of the number. The Doctor repeat- 
edly desired Mr. Strahan to speak louder; seeming very 
anxious not to lose any part of the service, in which he 
joined in very great fervour of devotion. The service over, 
he again thanked us all for attending him on the occasion; 
he said he had taken some opium to enable him to support 
the fatigue: he seemed quite spent, and lay in his chair 
some time in a kind of doze: he then got up and retired 

(*) [Probably a mistake for Mrs. Hall.— C] 



HOOLE. 179 

into his chamber. Mr. Ryland then called on him. I was 
with them: he said to Mr. Ryland, " I have taken my via- 
ticum; I hope I shall arrive safe at the end of my journey, 
and be accepted at last." He spoke very despondingly 
several times: Mr. Ryland comforted him, observing that 
" we have great hopes given us." " Yes," he replied, 
" we have hopes given us; but they are conditional, and I 
know not how far I have fulfilled those conditions." (*) 
He afterwards said, " However, I think that I have now 
corrected all bad and vicious habits." Sir Joshua Reynolds 
called on him; we left them together. Sir Joshua being 
gone, he called Mr. Ryland and me again to him: he con- 
tinued talking very seriously, and repeated a prayer or col- 
lect with great fervour, when Mr. Ryland took his leave. 
He ate a tolerable dinner; but retired directly after dinner. 
My son came to us from his church: we were at dinner — 
Dr. Johnson, Mrs. Gardiner, myself, Mrs. Hoole, my son, 
and Mr. Desmoulins. He had looked out a sermon of Dr. 
Clarke's, " On the Shortness of Life," for me to read to 
him after dinner, but he was too ill to hear it. After six 
o'clock he called us all into his room, when he dismissed 
us for that night with a prayer, delivered as he sat in his 
great chair in the most fervent and affecting manner, his 
mind appearing wholly employed with the thoughts of an- 
other life. He told Mr. Ryland that he wished not to 
come to God with opium, but that he hoped he had been 
properly attentive. He said before us all, that when he 
recovered the last spring, he had only called it a reprieve, 
but that he did think it was for a longer time; however he 
hoped the time that had been prolonged to him might be 
the means of bringing forth fruit meet for repentance. 

Monday, Dec. 6. — Sent in the morning to make inquiry 
after him; he was much the same: called in the evening; 
found Mr. Cruikshanks the Surgeon with him; he said he 
had been that day quarrelling with all his physicians: he 
appeared in tolerable spirits. 

Tuesday, Dec. 7. — Called at dinner time: saw him eat 
a very good dinner: he seemed rather better, and in spirits. 

Wednesday, Dec. 8. — Went with Mrs. Hoole and my 

(*) See his letters to Mrs. Thrale, vol. vii. p. 350. — J. Hoole. 
[See also No. 190.] 



180 JOHNSONIANA. 

son, by appointment: found him very poorly and low, after 
a very bad night. Mr. Nichols the printer was there. 
My son read the Litany, the Doctor several times urging 
him to speak louder. After prayers Mr. Langton came 
in: much serious discourse: he warned us all to profit by 
his situation; and, applying to me, who stood next him, 
exhorted me to lead a better life than he had done. " A 
better life than you, my dear sir!" I repeated. He replied 
warmly, " Don't compliment now." He told Mr. Langton 
that he had the night before enforced on (*) a power- 
ful argument to a powerful objection against Christianity. 

He had often thought it might seem strange that the 
Jews, Avho refused belief to the doctrine supported by the 
miracles of our Saviour, should after his death raise a nu- 
merous church; but he said that they ex!pected fully a 
temporal prince, and with this idea the multitude was ac- 
tuated when they strewed his way with palm-branches on 
his entry into Jerusalem; but finding their expectations 
afterwards disappointed, rejected him, till in process of time, 
comparing all the circumstances and prophecies of the Old 
Testament, confirmed in the New, many were converted; 
that the Apostles themselves once believed him to be a 
temporal prince. He said that he had always been struck 
with the resemblance of the Jewish passover and the Chris- 
tian doctrine of redemption. He thanked us all for our 
attendance, and we left him with Mr. Langton. 

Thursday, Dec. 9. — Called in the evening; did not see 
him, as he was engaged. 

Friday, Dec. 10. — Called about eleven in the morning; 
saw Mr. La Trobe there: neither of us saw the Doctor, as 
we understood he wished not to be visited that day. In 
the evening I sent him a letter, recommending Dr. Dalloway 
(an irregular physician) as an extraordinary person for 
curing the dropsy. He returned me a verbal answer that 
he was obliged to me, but that it was too late. My son 
read prayers with him this day. 

Saturday, Dec. 11. — Went to Bolt Court about twelve; 
met there Dr. Burney, Dr. Taylor, Sir John Hawkins, 



(*) [Probably Mr. Windham; see his Journal, post, No. 450. 
The word He, in ihe next sentence, means not Mr. Windham, 
but Dr. Johnson.— C] 



HOOLEf 181 

Mr. Sastres, Mr. Paradise, Count Zenobia, and Mr. Lang- 
ton. Mrs. Hoole called for me there: we both went to him: 
he received us very kindly; told me he had my letter, but 
"it was too late for doctors, regular or irregular.'''' His 
physiciaus had been with him that day, but prescribed 
nothing. Mr. Cruikshanks came: the Doctor was rather 
cheerful with him; he said, " Come, give me your hand," 
and shook him by the hand, adding, " You shall make no 
other use of it now;" meaning he should not examine his 
legs. Mr. Cruikshanks wished to do it, but the Doctor 
would not let him. Mr. Cruikshanks said he would call 
in the evening. 

Sunday, Dec. 12. — Was not at Bolt Court in the fore- 
noon; at St. Sepulchre's school in the evening with Mrs. 
Hoole, Avhere we saw Mrs. Gardiner and Lady Rothes; 
heard that Dr. Johnson was very bad, and had been some- 
thing delirious. Went to Bolt Court about nine, and found 
there Mr. Windham and the Rev. Mr. Strahan. The Doc- 
tor was then very bad in bed, which I think he had only 
taken to that day: he had now refused to take any more 
medicine or food. Mr. Cruikshanks came about eleven; 
he endeavoured to persuade him to take some nourishment, 
but in vain. Mr. Windham then went again to him, and, 
by the advice of Mr. Cruikshanks, put it upon this footing 
— that by persisting to refuse all sustenance he might pro- 
bably defeat his own purpose to preserve his mind clear, 
as his weakness might bring on paralytic complaints that 
might affect his mental powers. The Doctor, Mr. Wind- 
ham said, heard him patiently; but when he had heard all, 
he desired to be troubled no more. He then took a most 
affectionate leave of Mr. Windham, who reported to us 
the issue of the conversation, for only Mr. Desmoulins was 
with them in the chamber. I did not see the Doctor that, 
day, being fearful of disturbing him, and never conversed 
with him again. I came away about half-past eleven with 
Mr. Windham. 

Monday, Dec. 13. — Went to Bolt Court at eleven 
o'clock in the morning; met a young lady coming down 
stairs from the Doctor, whom, upon inquiry, I fomid to be 
Miss Morris (a sister to Miss Morris, formerly on the 
stage). Mrs. Desmoulins told me that she had seen the 
Doctor; that by her desire he had been told she came to 



182 JOHNSONIANA. 

ask his blessing, and that he said, " God bless you!" I 
then went up into his chamber, and found him lying very 
composed in a kind of doze: he spoke to nobody. Sir 
John Hawkins, Mr. Langton, Mrs. Gardiner, Rev. Mr. 
Strahan and Mrs. Strahan, Doctors Brocklesby and Butter, 
Mr. Steevens, and Mr. Nichols the printer, came; but no 
one chose to disturb him by speaking to him, and he 
seemed to take no notice of any person. While Mrs. 
Gardiner and I were there, before the rest came, he took a 
little warm milk in a cup, when he said something upon 
its not being properly given into his hand: he breathed 
very regular, though short, and appeared to be mostly in 
a calm sleep or dozing. I left him in this state, and never 
more saw him alive. In the evening I supped with Mrs. 
Hoole and my son at Mr. Braithwaite's, and at night my 
servant brought me word that my dearest friend died that 
evening about seven o'clock: and next morning I went to 
the house, where I met Mr. Seward; we went together 
into the chamber, and there saw the most awful sight of 
Dr. Johnson laid out in his bed without life! 



183 



Part V. 

ANECDOTES, 
BY GEORGE STEEVENS, ESQ. 



307. Johnson and Bichardson. 

Dr. Johnson confessed himself to have been sometimes 
in the power of bailiffs. Richardson, the author of 
"Clarissa," was his constant friend on such occasions. 
" I remember writing to him," said Johnson, " from a 
sponging house ; and was so sure of my deliverance 
through his kindness and liberality, that, before his reply 
was brought, I knew I covild afford to joke with the rascal 
who had me in custody, and did so, over a pint of adulte- 
rated Avine, for which, at that instant, I had no money to 
pay." 

308. Eyesight. — Spectacles. 

It has been observed, that Johnson had lost the sight of 
one of his eyes. Mr. Ellis, an ancient gentleman (author 
of a very happy burlesque translation of the thirteenth 
book, added to the iEneid by Maffei Vegio), was in the 
same condition; but, some years after, while he was at 
Margate, the sight of his eye unexpectedly returned, and 
that of his fellow became as suddenly extinguished. Con- 
cerning the particulars of this singular but authenticated 
event, Dr. Johnson was studiously inquisitive, and not 
with reference to his own case. Though he never made 
use of glasses to assist his sight, he said he could recollect 
no production of art to which man has superior obliga- 



184 JOHNSONIANA. 

tions. He mentioned the name of the original inventor 
of spectacles (*) with reverence, and expressed his wonder 
that not an individual, out of the multitudes who had pro- 
fited by them, had, through gratitude, written the life of 
so great a benefactor to society. 

309. Pope's ''Messiah:' 

"I have been told. Dr. Johnson," says a friend, "that 
your translation of Pope's ' Messiah' was made either as 
a common exercise or as an imposition for some negli- 
gence you had been guilty of at college." " No, sir," 
replied the Doctor: " at Pembroke the former were always 
in prose, and to the latter I would not have submitted. I 
wrote it rather to show the tutors what I could do, than 
what I was willing should be done. It answered my pur- 
pose; for it convinced those wlio were well enough in- 
clined to punish me, that I could wield a scholar's weapon, 
as often as I was menaced with arbitrary inflictions. 
Before the frequency of personal satire had weakened its 
eflfect, the petty tyrants of colleges stood in aAve of a 
pointed remark, or a vindictive epigram. But since every 
man in his turn has been wounded, no man is ashamed of 
a scar." 

310. Ballad Metre. 

When Dr. Percy first published his collection of ancient 
English ballads, perhaps he was too lavish in commenda- 
tion of the beautiful simplicity and poetic merit he sup- 
posed himself to discover in them. This circumstance 
provoked Johnson to observe one evening at Miss Rey- 
nolds's tea-table, that he could rhyme as well, and as 
elegantly, in common narrative and conversation. " For 
instance,'' says he, — 

"As with my hat upon my head 
I walk'd along the Strand, 
I there did meet another man 
With his hat in his hand, (t) 

(*) The inventor of spectacles is said to have been a monk at 
Pisa, who lived at the end of the thirteenth century, and whose 
name was Spina. 

(t) [See post, No. 364, where this anecdote is told in the vague 
manner and on the imperfect authority of Mr. Cradock. To 



STEEVENS. 185 

Or, to render such poetry subservient to my own imme- 
diate use, — 

" I therefore pray thee, Renny dear, 
That thou wilt give to me. 
With cream and sugar soften'd well, 
Another dish of tea. 

" Nor fear that I, my gentle maid, 

Shall long detain the cup. 

When once unto the bottom I 

Have drunk the liquor up. 

"Yet hear, alas! this mournful truth, 
Nor hear it with a frown; — 
Thou canst not make the tea so fast 
As I can gulp it down." 

And thus he proceeded through several more stanzas, till 
the reverend critic cried out for quarter. Such ridicule, 
however, was unmerited. 

311. Night Composition. 

" Night," Mr. Tyers has told us, " was Johnson's time 
for composition." But this assertion, if meant for a gene- 
ral one, can be refuted by living evidence. Almost the 
whole Preface to Shakspeare, and no inconsiderable part 
of the " Lives of the Poets," were composed by daylight, 
and in a room where a friend (*) was employed by him in 
other investigations. His studies were only continued 
through the night, when the day had been preoccupied, or 
proved too short for his undertakings. Respecting the 
fertility of his genius, the resources of his learning, and the 
accuracy of his judgment, the darkness and the light were 
both alike. 

312. Bolingbroke and Mallet. 

When in his latter years he was reminded of his forci- 
ble sarcasm against Bolingbroke and Mallet,(t) the Doctor 
exclaimed, " Did I really say so?" "Yes, sir." He re- 
plied, " I am heartily glad of it." 

have deliberately composed and circulated a parody on his 
friend's poem would have been a very diiferent thing from a 
sportive improvvisation over the tea-tabie. — C] 

(*) [Mr. Steevens himself] 

(t) [See No. 576.] 



186 JOHNSONIAN A. 



313. Capel. 

" You knew Mr. Capel,(*) Dr. Johnson?" " Yes, sir; 
I have seen him at Garrick's." " And what think you of 
his abilities?" " They are just sufficient, sir, to enable 
him to select the black hairs from the white ones, for the 
use of the periwig makers. Were he and I to count the 
grains in a bushel of wheat for a wager, he would cer- 
tainly prove the winner." 

314. Collins and Steevens. — Mrs. Johnson's Death. 

When one Collins, a sleep-compelling divine of Hert- 
fordshire, with the assistance of Counsellor Hardinge, pub- 
lished a heavy half-crown pamphlet against Mr. Steevens, 
Garrick asked the Doctor what he thought of this attack 
on his coadjutor. " I regard Collins's performance," re- 
plied Johnson, " as a great gun without powder or shot." 
When the same Collins afterwards appeared as editor of 
Capel' s posthumous notes on Shakspeare, with a preface 
of his own, containing the following words, — " A sudden 
and most severe stroke of affliction has left my mind too 
much distracted to be capable of engaging in such a task 
(that of a further attack on Mr. Steevens), though I am 
prompted to it by inclination as well as duty,"^ — the Doc- 
tor asked to what misfortune the foregoing words referred. 
Being told that the critic had lost his wife, Johnson added, 
" I believe that the loss of teeth may deprave the voice of a 
singer, and that lameness will impede the motions of a 
dancing master, but I have not yet been taught to regard 
the deathof a wife as the grave of literary exertions. When 
my dear Mrs. Johnson expired, I sought relief in my stu- 
dies, and strove to lose the recollection of her in the toils 
of literature. Perhaps, however, I wrong the feelings of 
this poor fellow. His wife might have held the pen in 
his name. Hinc illse lachrymse. Nay, I think I observe, 
throughout his two pieces, a woman's irritability, with a 
woman's impotence of revenge." Yet such were John- 
son's tender remembrances of his own wife, that after 
her death, though he had a whole house at command, he 
would study nowhere but in a garret. Being asked the 

(*) The annotator of Shakspeare. 



STEEVENS. 187 

reason why he chose a situation so incommodious, he an- 
swered, " Because in that room only I never saw Mrs. 
Johnson." 

315. Frequenting the Theatre. 

" Though you brought a tragedy, sir, to Drury Lane, 
and at one time were so intimate with Garrick, you never 
appeared to have much theatrical acquaintance." " Sir, 
while I had, in common with other dramatic authors, the 
liberty of the scenes, without considering my admission 
behind them as a favour, I was frequently at the theatre. 
At that period all the wenches knew me, and dropped me 
a curtsy, as they passed on to the stage. (*) But since poor 
Goldsmith's last comedy, I scarce recollect having seen 
the inside of a playhouse. To speak the truth, there is 
small encouragement there for a man whose sight and 
hearing are become so imperfect as mine. I may add, 
that, Garrick and Henderson excepted, I never met with a 
performer who had studied his art, or could give an intel- 
ligible reason for what he did." (t) 

316. Thrale's Table. 

" Mrs. Thrale," Mr. Tyers reports, " knew how to 
spread a table with the utmost plenty and elegance;" but 
all who are acquainted with this lady's domestic history 
must know, that in the present instance, Mr. Tyers's 
praise of her is unluckily bestowed. Her husband super- 
intended every dinner set before his guests. After his 
death, she confessed her total ignorance in culinary arrange- 
ments. Poor Thrale studied an art of which he loved the 
produce, and to which he expired a martyr. Johnson 
repeatedly, and with all the warmth of earnest friendship, 



(*) Johnson used at one time to go occasionally to the green- 
room of Drury-lane Theatre, where he was much regarded by the 
players, and was easy and facetious with them. He had a very 
high opinion of Mrs. Clive's comic powers, and conversed more 
with her than any of them. He said, " Clive. sir, is a good thing 
to sit by; she always understands what you say." — Langton. [She 
died at her house at Twickenham, in December, 1785.] 

(t) [This was probably before his acquaintance with Mr. 
Kemble and Mrs. Siddons, which took place only the year before 
his death.— C] 



188 JOHNSONIANA. 

assured him he was nimis edax renan, and that such un- 
limited indulgence of his palate would precipitate his end. 

317. Late Hours. 

On the night before the publication of the first edition 
of his Shakspeare, he supped with some friends in the 
Temple, who kept him up, " nothing loth," till past five 
the next morning. Much pleasantry was passing on the 
subject of commentatorship, when, all on a sudden, the 
Doctor, looking at his watch, cried out, " This is sport 
to you, gentlemen; but you do not consider there are at 
most only four hours between me and criticism." 

The Doctor is known to have been, like Savage, a very 
late visitor; yet, at whatever hour he returned, he never 
went to bed without a previous call on Mrs. Williams, the 
blind lady who for so many years had found protection 
under his roof. Coming home one morning between four 
and five, he said to her, " Take notice, madam, that for 
once I am here before others are asleep. As I turned into 
the court, I ran against a knot of bricklayers." " You 
forget, my dear sir," replied she, " that these people have 
all been a-bed, and are now preparing for their day's 
work." " Is it so, then, madam? I confess that circum- 
stance had escaped me." 

318. ''Time to go to Bed:' 

Once, and but once, he is known to have had too much 
wine; a circumstance which he himself discovered, on 
finding one of his sesquipedalian words hang fire. He 
then started up, and gravely observed, " I think it time we 
should go to bed." 

319. Doctoring one'' s-self. 

If " a little learning is a dangerous thing" on any specu- 
lative subject, it is eminently more so in the practical 
science of physic. Johnson was too frequently his own 
doctor. In October, 1784, just before he came to London, 
he had taken an unusual dose of squills, but without effect. 
He swallowed the same quantity on his arrival here, and 
it produced a most violent operation. He did not, as he 
afterwards confessed, reflect on the diff'crence between the 
perished and inefficacious vegetable he found in the conn- 



STEEVENS. 189 

try, and the fresh and potent one of the same kind he was 
sure to meet with in town. " You find me at present," 
says he, " suffering from a prescription of my own. When 
I am recovered from its consequences, and not till then, I 
shall know the true state of my natural malady." From 
this period, he took no medicine without the approbation 
of Heberden. What follows is known by all, and by all 
lamented — ere now, perhaps, even by the prebends of 
AVestminster.(*) 

320. Johnson's Funeral. 

Johnson asked one of his executors, a few days before 
his death, " where do you intend to bury me?" He an- 
swered, " In Westminster Abbey." "Then," continued 
he, " if my friends think it worth while to give me a stone, 
let it be placed over me so as to protect my body." 

On the Monday after his decease he was interred in 
Westminster Abbey. The corpse was brought from his 
house in Bolt Court, to the hearse, preceded by the Rev. 
Mr. Butt and the Rev. Mr. Strahan, about twelve o'clock. 
The following was the order of the procession: — 

Hearse and six. 

The executors, viz. Sir Joshua Reynolds, Sir John Hawkins, 
and William Scott, LL.D. [Lord Stowell] in a coach and lour. 

Eight coaches and four, containing the Literary Club, and 
others of the Doctor's friends, invited by the executors; viz. Dr. 
Barney, Mr. Malone, Mr. Steevens, the Rev. Mr. Strahan, Mr. 
Ryland, Mr. Hoole, Dr. Brocklesby, Mr. Cruikshanks, Mr. 
Nichols, Mr. Low, Mr. Paradise, General Paoli, Count Zenobia, 
Dr. Butter, Mr. Holder, Mr. Seward, Mr. Metcalf, Mr. Sastres, 
Mr. Desmoulins, the Rev. Mr. Butt, Dr. Horsley, Dr. Farmer, 
Dr. Wright; to whom may be added, Mr. Cooke (who was in- 
troduced by Dr. Brocklesby), and the Doctor's faithful servant, 
Francis Barber. 

Two coaches and four, containing the pall-bearers, viz. Mr. 
Burke, Mr. Windham, Sir Charles Bunbury, Sir Joseph Banks, 
Mr. Colman, and Mr. Langton. 

After these followed two mourning coaches and four, filled 
with gentlemen who, as volunteers, honoured themselves by at- 
tending this funeral. These were the Rev. Mr. Hoole, the Rev. 
Mr. East, Mr. Henderson, Mr. Mickle, Mr. Sharp, Mr. C. 
Burney, and Mr. G. Nicol. 

(*) [This sarcasm ?Lgd.ms\.\.\ie prebendaries of Westminster, and 
particularly against Johnson's friend Dr. Taylor, who was one of 
them, will be explained presently. — C] 



190 JOHNSONIANA. 

Thirteen gentlemen's carriages closed the procession, which 
reached the Abbey a little before one. 

The corpse was met at the west door by the prebendaries in 
residence, to the number of six, in their surplices and doctor's 
hoods; and the officers of the church, and attendants on the fune- 
ral, were then marshalled in the following order: — 

Two vergers. 

The Rev. Mr. Strahan. 

The Rev. Mr. Butt. 

The Body. 

Sir Joshua Reynolds, as chief mourner and executor. 

Sir John Hawkins and Dr. Scott, as executors. 

The rest two and two. 

The body then proceeded to the south cross, and, in 
view of the three executors, was deposited by the side of 
Mr. Garrick, with the feet opposite to the monument of 
Shakspeare. 

The Rev. Dr. Taylor performed the burial service, at- 
tended by some gentlemen of the Abbey; but it must be 
regretted by all who continue to reverence the hierarchy, 
that the cathedral service was withheld from its invariable 
friend; and the omission was truly offensive to the audience 
at large. 

How this omission happened, we are unable to account. 
Perhaps the executors should have asked for it; but at all 
events it should have been performed. That the fees for 
opening the ground were paid, was a matter of indispens- 
able necessity; and there can be no doubt, from the libe- 
rality of the present dean and chapter, but they will be 
returned, as was offered in the case of Dryden, and was 
done in that of St. Evremond, who " died," says Atter- 
bury, "renouncing the Christian religion; yet the church 
of Westminster thought fit, in honour to his memory, to 
give his body room in the Abbey, and allow him to be 
buried there gratis, so far as the chapter were concerned, 
though he left 800/. sterling behind him, which is thought 
every way an unaccountable piece of management." How 
striking the contrast between St. Evremond and John- 
son! (*) 

(*) " [It must be told, that a dissatisfaction was expressed in the 
public papers that he was not buried with all possible funeral 
rites and honours. In all processions and solemnities something 
will be forgotten or omitted. Here no disrespect wis intended. 
The executors did not think themselves justified in doing more 



STEEVENS. 191 

than they did; for only a little cathedral service, accompanied 
with lights and music, would have raised the price of interment. 
In this matter fees ran high; they could not be excused; and the 
expenses were to be paid from the property of the deceased. His 
funeral expenses amounted to more than two hundred pounds. 
Future monumental charges may be defrayed by the generosity of 
subscription." — Gentlcviaii's Magazine, 1785, p. 911, probably by 
Mr. Tyers. — It is supposed that the fees were not returned, and it 
is to be added, that all Dr. Johnson's friends, but especially Mr. 
Malone and Mr. Steevens, were indignant at the mean and selfish 
spirit which the dean and chapter exhibited on this occasion; 
but they were especially so against Dr. Taylor, not only for not 
having prevailed on his colleagues to show more respect to his 
old friend, but for the unfeeling manner in which he himself per- 
formed the burial service. — C.l 



193 JOHNSONIANA. 



Part VI. 

ANECDOTES, 
BY MISS REYNOLDS. (*) 

321. " Clarissa Harlowe.'' 

The first time I was in company with Dr. Johnson, 
which was at Miss Cotterell's (t), I well remember the 
flattering notice he took of a lady present, on her saying 
that she was inclined to estimate the morality of every 
person according as they liked or disliked " Clarissa Har- 
lowe." He was a great admirer of Richardson's works 
in general, but of " Clarissa" he always spoke with the 
highest enthusiastic praise. He used to say, that it was 
the first book in the world for the knowledge it displays of 
the human heart. 

322. Richardson. 

Yet of the author I never heard him speak with any 
degree of cordiality, but rather as if impressed with some 
cause of resentment against him; and this has been im- 
puted to something of jealousy, not to say envy, on account 

(*) [From a MS. entitled " Recollections of Dr. Johnson," com- 
municated, in 1829, to Mr. Croker, by Mr. Palmer, grand-nephew 
of Sir Joshua Reynolds. Of Miss Reynolds, Dr. Johnson thought 
so highly, that he once said to Mrs. Piozzi, " I never knew but 
one mind which would bear a microscopical examination, and 
that is dear Miss Reynolds', and hers is very near to purity it- 
self."-C.] 

(t) [The daughter of Rear-Admiral Colterell.] 



MISS REYNOLDS. 193 

of Richardson's having engrossed the attentions and affec- 
tionate assiduities of several very ingenious literary ladies, 
whom he used to call his adopted daughters, and for whom 
Dr. Johnson had conceived a paternal affection (particularly 
for two of them, Miss Carter and Miss Mulso, now Mrs. 
Chapone), previous to their acquaintance with Richardson; 
and it was said, that he thought himself neglected by them 
on his account. 

323. Female Friendship. 

Dr. Johnson set a higher value upon female friend- 
ship than, perhaps, most men; which may reasonably be 
supposed was not a little enhanced by his acquaintance 
with those ladies, if it was not originally derived from 
them. To their society, doubtless, Richardson owed that 
delicacy of sentiment, that feminine excellence, as I may 
say, that so peculiarly distinguishes his writings from 
those of his own sex in general, how high soever they may 
soar above the other in the more dignified paths of litera- 
ture, in scientific investigations, and abstruse inquiries. 

324. JJliat is Love? 

Dr. Johnson used to repeat, with very apparent delight, 
some lines of a poem, written by Miss Mulso: — 

"Say, Stella, what is Love, whose cruel power 
Robs virtue of content, and youth of joy? 
What nymph or goddess, in what latal hour. 
Produced to light the mischief-making boy? 

" Some say, by Idleness and Pleasure bred, 
The smiling babe on beds of loses la)' ; 
There with soft honey'd dews by Fancy fed, 
His infant beauties open'd on the day." (*) 

• 

325. An Inn. 

Dr. Johnson had an uncommonly retentive memory for 
everything that appeared to him worthy of observation. 
Whatever he met with in reading, particularly poetry, I 
believe he seldom required a revisal to be able to repeat 
verbatim. If not literally so, his deviations were generally 

(*) [Johnson paid the first of these stanzas the great and unde- 
served compliment of quoting it in his Dictionary, under the word 

" aUATRAIN."— C] 

13 



194 JOHNSONIANA. 

improvements. This was the case, in some respects, in 
Shenstone's poem of " The Inn," which I learned from 
hearing Mr. Johnson repeat it; and I was surprised, on 
seeing it lately among the author's works for the first 
time, to find it so different. One stanza he seems to have 
extemporised himself: — 

"And once again I shape ray way 

Through rain, through shine, through thick and thin, 
Secure to meet, at close of day, 
A kind reception at an inn."(*) 

326. Quick Heading. 

He always read amazingly quick, glancing his eye from 
the top to the bottom of the page in an instant. If he 
made any pause, it was a compliment to the work; and, 
after seesawing over it a few minutes, generally repeated 
the passage, especially if it was poetry. 

327. Pope's " Essay on Man." 

One day, on taking up Pope's " Essay on Man," a 
particular passage seemed more than ordinarily to engage 
his attention; so much so, indeed, that, contrary to his 
usual custom, after he had left the book and the seat in 
which he was sitting, he returned to revise it, turning over 
the pages with anxiety to find it, and then repeated — 

" Passions, though selfish, if their means be fair, 
List under Reason, and deserve her care: 
Those that, imparted, court a nobler aim. 
Exalt their kind, and take some virtue's name." 

His task, probably, was the whole paragraph, but these 
lines only were audible. 

* 328. Favourite Verses. 

He seemed much to delight in reciting verses, particu- 
larly from Pope. Among the many I have had the plea- 
sure of hearing him recite, the conclusion of the " Dun- 

(*) [The lines in the corrected edition of Shenstone's works run 
thus: — 

"Whoe'er has travelled life's dull round, 
Where'er his stages may have been. 
May sigh to think he still has found. 
The warmest welcome at an inn."] 



MISS REYNOLDS. 195 

ciad," and his " Epistle to Jervas," seemed to claim his 
highest admiration: — 

" Led by some rule that glides, but not constrains, 
And finish'd more through happiness than pains,"(*) 

he used to remark, was a union that constituted the ulti- 
mate degree of excellence in the fine arts. 

Two lines from Pope's " Universal Prayer" I have 
heard him quote, in very serious conversation, as his theo- 
logical creed: — 

" And binding Nature fast in fate, 
Left free the human will." 

Some lines also he used to repeat in his best manner, 
written in memory of Bishop Boulter,(t) which I believe 
are not much known: — 

" Some write their wrongs in marble: he, more just, 
Stoop'd down serene and wrote them in the dust; 
Trod under foot, the sport of every wind, 
Swept from the earth, and bloiied from his mind. 
There, secret in the grave, he bade them lie, 
And grieved they could not 'scape the Almighty's eye." 

329. Goldsmith. 

Of Goldsmith's " Traveller" he used to speak in terms 
of the highest commendation. Alady(|) I remember, who 
had the pleasure of hearing Dr. Johnson read it from the 
beginning to the end on its first coming out, to testify her 
admiration of it, exclaimed, " I never more shall think Dr. 
Goldsmith ugly." 

In having thought so, however, she was by no means 
singular; an instance of which I am rather inclined to men- 
tion, because it involves a remarkable one of Dr. John- 
son's ready wit: for this lady, one evening being in a 
large party, was called upon after supper for her toast, 
and seeming embarrassed, she was desired to give the 
ugliest man she knew; and she immediately named Dr. 
Goldsmith, on which a lady(§) on the other side of the 
table rose up and reached across to shake hands with her, 

(*) Epistle to Jervas. — Reynolds. 
(t) [By Dr. Madden.— C] 
(I) [Miss Reynolds herself— C] 
(§) Mrs. Cholmondeley. — Reynolds. 



196 JOHNSONIANA. 

expressing some desire of being better acquainted with her, 
it being the first time they had met; on which Dr. John- 
son said, " Thus the ancients, on the commencement of 
their friendships, used to sacrifice a beast betwixt them." 

Sir Joshua, I have often tliought, never gave a more 
striking proof of his excellence in portrait-painting, than in 
giving dignity to Dr. Goldsmith's countenance, and yet 
preserving a strong likeness. But he drew after his mind, 
or rather his genius, if I may be allowed to make that dis- 
tinction; assimilating the one Avith his conversation, the 
other with his works. 

Dr. Goldsmith's cast of countenance, and indeed his 
whole figure from head to foot, impressed every one at first 
sight Avith an idea of his being a Ioav mechanic; particularly, 
I believe, a journeyman tailor. A little concurring instance 
of this I well remember. One day, at Sir Joshua Reynolds', 
in company Avith some gentlemen and ladies, he Avas relat- 
ing Avith great indignation an insult he had just received 
from some gentleman he had accidentally met (I think at a 
coffee-house). " The fellow," he said, " took me for a 
tailor!" on Avhich all the party either laughed aloud or 
shoAved they suppressed a laugh. 

Dr. Johnson seemed to have much more kindness for 
Goldsmith, than Goldsmith had for him. He ahvays ap- 
peared to be overaAved by Johnson, particularly Avhen in 
company Avith people of any consequence, ahvays as if 
impressed Avith some fear of disgrace; and, indeed, well he 
might. I liaA'e been Avitness to many mortifications he has 
suffered in Dr. Johnson's company: one day in particular, 
at Sir Joshua's table, a gentleman to Avhom he Avas talking 
his best stopped him, in the midst of his discoiirse, with 
" Hush! hush! Dr. Johnson is going to say something." 

At another time, a gentleman Avho Avas sitting between 
Dr. Johnson and Dr. Goldsmith, and Avith whom he had 
been disputing, remarked to another, loud enough for Gold- 
smith to hear him, " That he had a fine time of it, betAveen 
Ursa major and Ursa minor r^*) 

(♦) [This is a striking instance of the easy fabrication of what 
are called anecdotes, and of how little even the best authorities 
can be relied on in such matters. The real anecdote Avas of Doc- 
tor Major and Doctor Minor, by no means so happy as the fabri- 
cation; and the title of Ursa Major was applied to Johnson by old 



MISS REYNOLDS. 197 

330. Talking one's best. 

Mr. Baretti used to remark, with a smile, that Dr. John- 
son always talked his best to the ladies. But, indeed, 
that was his general practice to all who would furnish him 
with a subject worthy of his discussion; for, what was 
very singular in him, he would rarely, if ever, begin any 
subject himself, but would sit silent (*) till something was 
particularly addressed to him, and if that happened to lead 
to any scientific or moral inquiry, his benevolence, I 
believe, more immediately incited him to expatiate on it 
for the edification of the ignorant than for any other motive 
whatever. 

331. Punishment of Criminals. — Original Sin. 

One day, on a lady's telling him that she had read 
Parnell's " Hermit" with dissatisfaction, for she could not 
help thinking that theives and mvirderers, who were such 
immediate ministers from Heaven of good to man, did not 
deserve such punishments as our laws inflict, Dr. Johnson 
spoke such an eloquent oration, so deeply philosophical, as 
indeed afforded a most striking instance of the truth of 
Baretti's observation, but of which, to my great regret, I 
can give no corroborating proof, my memory furnishing me 
with nothing more than barely the general tendency of his 
arginnents, Avhich Avas to prove, that though it might be 
said that wicked men, as well as the good, were ministers of 
God, because in the moral sphere the good we enjoy and 
the evil we suffer are administered to us by man, yet, as 
Infinite Goodness could not inspire or influence man to act 
wickedly, but on the contrary, it was his divine property 
to produce good out of evil, and as man was endowed with 
free-will to act, or to refrain from acting wickedly, with 
knowledge of good and evil, with conscience to admonish 

Lord Auchinlech. Prom these two facts the pleasant fallacy 
quoted by Miss Reynolds was no doubt compounded. — C] 

(*) [" Having taken the liberty to remark to Dr. Johnson, that 
he very often sat quite silent for a long time, even when in com- 
pany with only a single friend, he smiled and said, ' It is very 
true, sir; Tom Tyers described me the best. He once said to me, 
' Sir, you are like a ghost: you never speak till you are spoken 

to.' " — BOSWELL.] 



198 JOHNSONIANA. 

and to direct him to choose the one and to reject the other, 
he was, therefore, as criminal in the sight of God and of 
man, and as deserving punishment for his evil deeds, as if 
no good had resulted from them. 

And yet, though, to the best of my remembrance, this 
was the substance of Dr. Johnson's discourse in answer 
to the lady's observation, I am rather apprehensive that, 
in some respects, it may be thought inconsistent with his 
general assertations, that man was by nature much more 
inclined to evil than to good. But it would ill become me 
to expatiate on such a subject. 

Yet, what can be said to reconcile his opinion of the 
natural tendency of the human heart to evil with his own 
zealous virtuous propensions? Nothing, perhaps, at least 
by me, but that this opinion, I believe, was founded upon 
religious principles relating to original sin; and I well 
remember that, when disputing with a person on this sub- 
ject, who thought that nature, reason, and virtue, were the 
constituent principles of humanity, he would say, " Nay, 
nay, if man is by nature prompted to act virtuously, all the 
divine precepts of the Gospel, all its denunciations, all the 
laws enacted by man to restrain man from evil, had been 
needless." 

332, Sympathy. 

It is certain that he Avould scarcely allow any one to feel 
much for the distresses of others; or whatever he thought 
they might feel, he was very apt to impute to causes that 
did no honour to human nature. Indeed, I thought him 
rather too fond of Rochefoucault maxims. 

333. Evil Propensions. 

The very strict watch he apparently kept over his mind 
seems to correspond with his thorough conviction of na- 
ture's evil propensions, but it might be as likely in con- 
sequence of his dread of those peculiar ones, whatever they 
were, which attended, or rather constituted, his mental 
malady, which I have observed, might probably have in- 
cited him so often to pray; and I impute it to the same 
cause, that he so frequently, with great earnestness, desired 
his intimate acquaintance to pray for him, apparently on 
very slight occasions of corporeal disorder. 



MISS REYNOLDS. 199 

334. Morbid Melancholy. 

An axiom of his was, that the pains and miseries inci- 
dent to human life far outweighed its happiness and good. 
But much may be said in Dr. Johnson's justification, sup- 
posing this notion should not meet with universal approba- 
tion, he having, it is probable, imbibed it in the early part 
of his life when under the pressure of adverse fortune, and 
in every period of it under the still heavier pressure and 
more adverse influence of Nature herself; for I have often 
heard him lament that he inherited from his father a mor- 
bid disposition both of body and of mind — an oppressive 
melancholy which robbed him of the common enjoyments 
of life. (*) 

Indeed, he seemed to struggle almost incessantly with 
some mental evil, and often, by the expression of his coun- 
tenance and the motion of his lips, appeared to be oft'ering 
up some ejaculation to Heaven to remove it. But in Lent, 
or near the approach of any great festival, he would gene- 
rally retire from the company to a corner of the room, but 
most commonly behind a window-curtain, to pray, and 
with such energy, and in so loud a Avhisper, that every 
word was heard distinctly, particularly the Lord's Prayer 
and the Apostles' Creed, with which he constantly con- 
cluded his devotions. Sometimes some words would em- 
phatically escape him in his usual tone of voice. 

Probably his studious attention to the secret workings 
of his peculiar mental infirmity, together Avith his expe- 
rience of Divine assistance co-operating with his reasoning 
faculties, to repel its force, may have proved in the highest 
degree conducive to the exaltation of his piety, and the 
pre-eminence of his wisdom. And I think it equally pro- 
bable, that all his natural defects were conducive to that 
end; for being so peculiarly debarred from the enjoyment 
of those amusements which the eye and the ear afford, 
doubtless he sought more assiduously for those gratifica- 
tions which scientific pursuits or philosophic meditation 
bestow. 

(*) [This last paragraph was originally written, "terrifying 
melancholy, which he was sometimes apprehensive bordered on 
insanity." This Miss Reynolds softened into the remark as it 
stands above. — C] 



200 JOHNSONIANA. 

335. Painting and Music. 

These defects sufficiently account for his insensibility 
of the charms of music and of painting, being utterly in- 
capable of receiving any delight from the one or the other, 
particularly from painting, his sight being more deficient 
than his hearing. 

Of the superficies of the fine arts, or visible objects of 
taste, he could have had but an imperfect idea; but as to 
the invisible principles of a natural good taste, doubtless 
he was possessed of these in the most eminent degree, and 
I should have thought it a strange inconsistency indeed in 
his character, had he really wanted a taste for music; but 
as a proof that he did not, I think I had need only mention, 
that he was remarkably fond of Dr. Burney's " History of 
Music, "(*) and that he said it showed that the author un- 
derstood the philosophy of music better than any man that 
ever wrote on that subject. 

It is certain that, when in the company of connoisseurs, 
whose conversation has turned chiefly upon the merits of 
the attractive charms of painting, perhaps of pictures that 
were immediately under their inspection. Dr. Johnson, I 
have thought, used to appear as if conscious of his unbe- 
coming situation, or rather, I might say, suspicious that it 
was an unbecoming situation. 

But it was observable, that he rather avoided the dis- 
covery of it; for when asked his opinion of the likeness of 
any portrait of a friend, he has generally evaded the ques- 
tion, and if obliged to examine it, he has held the picture 
most ridiculously, quite close to his eye, just as he held his 
book. But he was so unwilling to expose that defect, that 
he was much displeased with Sir Joshua, I remember,' for 
drawing him with his book held in that manner, which, I 
believe, was the cause of that picture being left unfi- 
nished, "(t) 

(*) [Miss Reynolds will hardly convince any one that Dr. John- 
son was fond of music by proi^ing that he was fond of his friend 
Dr. Burney's " History of Music." The truth is, he held both 
painting and music in great contempt, because his organs afibrded 
him no adequate perception of either. — C] 

(t) [This, however, or a similar picture, -was finished and en- 
grav^edasthe frontispiece of Murphy's edition of Dr, Johnson's 
works. — C] 



MISS REYNOLDS. 201 

336. Religion and Morality. — Good-Breeding. 

On every occasion that had the least tendency to depre- 
ciate religion or morality, he totally disregarded all forms 
or rules of good-breeding, as utterly unworthy of the slight- 
est consideration. But it must be confessed, that he some- 
times suffered this noble principle to transgress its due 
bounds, and to extend even to those who Avere anywise 
connected with the person who had offended him. 

337. Republicans. 

His treatment of Mr. Israel Wilkes (*) was mild in com- 
parison of what a gentleman (t) met with from him one 
day at Sir Joshua Reynolds's, a barrister at law and a man 
of fashion, who, on discoursing with Dr. (then Mr.) John- 
son on the laws and government of different nations (I re- 
member particularly those of Venice), and happening to 
speak of them in terms of high approbation, " Yes, sir," 
says Johnson, " all republican rascals think as you do." 
How the conversation ended I have forgot, it was so many 
years ago; but that he made no apology to the gentleman I 
am very sure, nor to any person present, for such an outrage 
against society. 

338. Influence of Age. 

Of latter years he grew much more companionable, and 
I have heard him say, that he knew himself to be so. " In 
my younger days," he would say, " it is true I was much 
inclined to treat mankind with asperity and contempt; 
but I found it answered no good end. I thought it wiser 
and better to take the Avorld as it goes. Besides, as I have 
advanced in life I have had more reason to be satisfied with 
it. Mankind have treated me with more kindness, and of 
course I have more kindness for them. 

339. Influence of Fortune. 

In the latter part of his life, indeed, his circumstances 
were very different from what they were in the beginning. 
Before he had the pension, he literally dressed like a beg- 

{*) [The brother of John Wilkes.] 
\^) Mr. Elliot.— Reynolds. 



^ 202 JOHNSONIANA. 

gar: (*) and from what I have been told, he as literally 
lived as such; at least as to common conveniences in his 
apartments, wanting even a chair to sit on, particularly in 
his study, where a gentleman who frequently visited him 
whilst writing his Idlers constantly found him at his desk, 
sitting on one with three legs; and on rising from it, he 
remarked that Dr. Johnson never forgot its defect, but 
would either hold it in his hands or place it with great 
composure against some support, taking no notice of its 
imperfection to its visitor. Whether the visitor sat on a 
chair, or on a pile of folios, (t) or how he sat, I never re- 
member to have been told. 

340. Ceremony to Ladies. 

He particularly piqued himself upon his nice observance 
of ceremonious punctilios towards ladies. A remarkable 
instance of this was his never suffering any lady to walk 
from his house to her carriage, through Bolt Court, unat- 
tended by himself to hand her into it (at least I have reason 
to suppose it to be his general custom, from his constant 
performance of it to those with whom he was the most in- 
timately acquainted); and if any obstacle prevented it from 
driving off, there he would stand by the door of it, and 
gather a mob around him; indeed, they Avould begin to 
gather the moment he appeared handing the lady down the 
steps into Fleet Street. But to describe his appearance — 
his important air — that indeed cannot be described; and his 
morning habiliments would excite the utmost astonishment 
in my reader, that a man in his senses could think of step- 
ping outside his door in them, or even to be seen at home. 
Sometimes he exhibited himself at the distance of eight or 
ten doors from Bolt Court, to get at the carriage, to the no 
small diversion of the populace. 

341. Johnson'' s Dress. — Miss Cotterell. 

His best dress was, in his early times, so very mean, 
that one afternoon as he was following some ladies up 

(*) [See in Miss Hawkins's Anecdotes, No. 552, how different 
his appearance was after the pension. — C] 
(t) [See No. 295.] 



MISS REYNOLDS. 203 

stairs, on a visit to a lady of fashion (Miss Cotterell), (*) 
the servant, not knowing him, suddenly seized him by the 
shoulder, and exclaimed, " Where are you going?" striving 
at the same time to drag him back; but a gentleman (t) who 
was a few steps behind prevented her from doing or say- 
ing more, and Mr. Johnson groAvled all the way up stairs, 
as Avell he might. He seemed much chagrined and dis- 
composed. Unluckily, whilst in this humour, a lady of 
high rank(:t:) happening to call upon Miss Cotterell, he 
was most violently offended with her for not introducing 
him to her ladyship, and still more so for her seeming to 
show more attention to her than to him. After sitting 
some time silent, meditating how to doivn Miss Cotterell, 
he addressed himself to Mr. Reynolds, who sat next him, 
and, after a few introductory words, with a loud voice 
said, " I wonder which of us two could get most money at 
his trade in one week, Avere we to work hard at it from 
morning till night." I don't remember the answer; but I 
know that the lady, rising soon after, went away without 
knowing what trade they were of. She might probably 
suspect Mr. Johnson to be a poor author by his dress; and 
because the trade of a blacksmith, a porter, or a chairman, 
which she probably would have taken him for in the street, 
was not quite so suitable to the place she saw him in. This 
incident he used to mention with great glee — how he had 
domied Miss Cotterell, though at the same time he pro- 
fessed a great friendship and esteem for that lady. 

342. Dr. Barnard. — '•'■Forty-Jive.''^ 

It is certain, for such kind of mortifications he never 

(*) [His acquaintance with this lady and her sister, who mar- 
ried Dean Lewis, continued to the last days of his life. He says 
in one of his letters to Mrs. Thrale, " I know not whether I told 
3rou that my old friend Mrs. Cotterell, now no longer Miss, has 
called to see me. Mrs. Lewis is not well. — April 26, 1784." It 
is gratifying to observe how many of Johnson's earliest friends 
continued so to the last. — C] 

(t) [Sir Joshua (then Mr.) Reynolds.— C] 

(t) Lady Fitzroy. — Miss Reynolds.— [See Boswell, vol. i. p. 
228, where this story is told of the Duchess of Argyll and another 
lady of high rank: that other lady was no doubt the person erro- 
neously designated by Miss Reynolds as Lady Filzroij. She pro- 
bably was Elizabeth Cosby, wife of Lord Aiigustus JFitzroy, and 
grandmother of the present Duke of Grafton.— C] 



204 JOHNSONIANA. 

expressed any concern; but on other occasions he has 
shown an amiable sorrow(*) for the offence he has given, 
particularly if it seemed to involve the slightest disrespect 
to the church or to its ministers. 

I shall never forget with what regret he spoke of the 
rude reply he made to Dr. Barnard, on his saying that 
men never improved after the age of forty-five. " That's 
not true, sir," said Johnson. " You, who perhaps are 
forty-eight, may still improve, if you will try: I wish you 
would set about it; and I am afraid," he added, "there 
is great room for it;" and this Avas said in rather a large 
party of ladies and gentleman at dinner. Soon after the 
ladies withdrew from the table. Dr. Johnson followed 
them, and sitting down by the lady of the house, he said, 
" I am very sorry for having spoken so rudely to the 
dean." "You very well may, sir." "Yes," he said, 
" it Avas highly improper to speak in that style to a 
minister of the Gospel, and I am the more hurt on re- 
flecting with what mild dignity he received it." When 
the dean came up into the drawing-room, Dr. Johnson 
immediately rose from his seat, and made him sit on the 
sofa by him, and with such a beseeching look for pardon, 
and with such fond gestures — literally smoothing down his 
arms and knees — tokens of penitence, which were so 
graciously received by the dean as to make Dr. Johnson 
very happy, and not a little added to the esteem and respect 
he had previously entertained for his character. 

The next morning the dean called on Sir Joshua Rey- 
nolds with the following verses; — 

" I lately thought no man alive 
Could e'er improve past forty-five, 

And ventured to assert it. 
The observation was not new, 
But seem'd to me so just and true 

That none could controvert it. 

'" No, sir,' says Johnson, ' 'tis not so; 
'Tis your mistake, and 1 can show 
An instance, if you doubt it. 

(*) [" He repented just as certainly, however, if he had been 
led to praise any person or thing by accident more than he thouo;ht 
it deserved; and was on such occasions comically earnest to de- 
stroy the praise or pleasure he had unintentionally given." — 
Piozzi.] 



MISS REYNOLDS. 205 

You, who perhaps are forty-eight, 

May still improve, 'tis not too late: 

I wish you'd set about it.' 

" Encouraged thus to mend my faults, 
I turn'd his counsel in my thoughts 

Which way I could apply it; 
Genius I knew was past my reach, 
For who can learn what none can teach? 
And wit — I could not buy it. 

" Then come, my friends, and try your skill ; 
You may improve me if you will, 
(My books are at a distance); 
With you I'll live and learn, and then 
Instead of books I shall read men, 
So lend me your assistance. 

" Dear knight of Plympton,(*) teach me how 
To sulfer with unclouded brow 
And smile serene as thine. 
The jest uncouth and truth severe; 
Like thee to turn my deafest ear, 
And calmly drink my wine. 

" Thou say'st not only skill is gain'd, 
But genius too, may be attain'd, 

By studious invitation ; 
Thy temper mild, thy genius fine, 
I'll study till I make them mine 

By constant meditation. 

" Thy art of pleasing teach me, Garrick, 
Thou who reversest odes Pindaric(t) 

A second time read o'er; 
Oh! could we read thee backwards too 
Last thirt}'' years thou shouldst review, 

And charm us thirty more. 

" If I have thoughts and can't express 'em, 
Gibbon shall teach me how to dress 'em 

In terms select and terse ; 
Jones teach me modesty and Greek; 
Smith, how to think; Burke, how to speak; 
And Beauclerk to converse. 

" Let Johnson teach me how to place 
In fairest light each borrow'd grace; 
From him I'll learn to write ; 



(*) [Sir Joshua Reynolds was born atPlympton in Devon.] 
(+) [A humorous attempt of Garrick's to read one of Cumber- 
land's odes backwards. See Boswell, vol. iii. p. 408,— C] 



206 JOHNSONIANA, 

Cop)'' his free and easy style, 
And from the roughness of his file 
Grow, like himself, polite." 

343. Scepticism. 

Talking on the subject of scepticism, he said, "The 
eyes of the mind are like the eyes of the body; they can 
see only at such a distance: but because we cannot see be- 
yond this point, is there nothing beyond it?" 

344. Want of Memory. 

Talking of the want of memory, he said, " No, sir, it 
is not true: in general every person has an equal capacity 
for reminiscence, and for one thing as well as another, 
otherwise it would be like a person complaining that he 
could hold silver in his hand, but could not hold copper." 

345. Genius. 

" No, sir," he once said, " people are not born Avith a 
particular genius for particular employments or studies, for 
it would be like saying that a man could see a great way 
east, but could not west. It is good sense applied with 
diligence to what was at first a mere accident, and which, 
by great application, grcAV to be called, by the generality 
of mankind, a particular genius." 

346. Imagination. 

Some person advanced, that a lively imagination dis- 
qualified the mind from fixing steadily upon objects which 
required serious and minute investigation. Johnson. " It 
is true, sir, a vivacious quick imagination does sometimes 
give a confused idea of things, and which do not fix deep, 
though, at the same time, he has a capacity to fix them in 
his memory, if he would endeavour at it. It being like a 
man that, when he is running, does not make observations 
on what he meets with, and consequently is not impressed 
by them; but he has, nevertheless, the power of stopping 
and informing himself." 

347. Conscience and Shame. 

A gentleman was mentioning it as a remark of an ac- 
quaintance of his, " that he never knew but one person 



MISS REYNOLDS. 207 

that was completely wicked." Johnson. " Sir, I don't 
know what you mean by a person completely wicked." 
Gentleman. " Why, any one that has entirely got rid of 
all shame." Johnson. " How is he, then, completely 
wicked? He must get rid, too, of all conscience." Gen- 
tleman. " I think conscience and shame the same thing." 
Johnson. "I am surprised to hear you say so; they 
spring from two difi'erent sources, and are distinct percep- 
tions: one respects this world, the other the next." A 
Lady. " I think, however, that a person who has got rid 
of shame is in a fair way to get rid of conscience." John- 
son. " Yes, 'tis a part of the way, I grant; but there are 
degrees at which men stop, some for the fear of men, some 
for the fear of God: shame arises from the fear of men, 
conscience from the fear of God." 

348. Bennet Langton. 

Dr. Johnson seemed to delight in drawing characters; 
and when he did so con amove, delighted every one that 
heard him. Indeed, I cannot say I ever heard him draw 
any con odio, though he professed himself to be, or at least 
to love, a good hater. But I have remarked that his dislike 
of any one seldom prompted him to say much more than 
that the fellow is a blockhead, a poor creature, or some 
such epithet. I shall never forget the exalted character he 
drew of his friend Mr. Langton, nor with what energy, 
what fond delight, he expatiated in his praise, giving him 
every excellence that nature could bostow, and every per- 
fection that humanity could acquire. (*) A literary lady 
was present. Miss Hannah More, who perhaps inspired 
him with an unusual ardour to shine, which indeed he did 
with redoubled lustre, deserving himself the praises he be- 
stowed: not but I have often heard him speak in terms 
equally high of Mr. Langton, though more concisely ex- 
pressed. 

349. Mrs. Thrale. 

On the praises of Mrs. Thrale he used to dwell with a 
peculiar delight, a paternal fondness, expressive of con- 
scious exultation in being so intimately acquainted with 

(*) [See Boswell, vol. viii. p. 279.— C] 



208 JOHNSONIAN A. 

her. One day in speaking of her to Mr. Harris, author of 
" Hermes," and expatiating on her various perfections, — 
the solidity of her virtues, the brilliancy of her wit, and the 
strength of her understanding, &c. — he quoted some lines 
(a stanza, I believe, but from what author I know not), 
with which he concluded his most eloquent eulogium, and 
of these I retained but the two last lines: — (*) 

" Virtues of such a generous kind, 
Good in the last recesses of the mind." 

350. Johnson^s Benevolence. 

It will doubtless appear highly paradoxical to the gene- 
rality of the world to say, that few men, in his ordinary 
disposition, or common frame of mind, could be more in- 
offensive than Dr. Johnson; yet surely those who knew 
his uniform benevolence, and its actuating principles — 
steady virtue, and true holiness — will readily agree with 
me, that peace and good-will towards man were the natural 
emanations of his heart. 

I shall never forget the impression I felt in Dr. John- 
son's favour, the first time I was in his company, on his 
saying, that as he returned to his lodgings, at one or two 
o'clock in the morning, he often saw poor children asleep 
on thresholds and stalls, and that he used to put pennies 
into their hands to buy them a breakfast, (t) 

351. Sunday. 

He always carried a religious treatise in his pocket on a 
Sunday, and he used to encourage me to relate to him the 
particular parts of Scripture I did not understand, and to 
write them down as they occurred to me in reading the 
Bible. 

352. Johnson'' s Recitation. 

When repeating to me one day Grainger's " Ode on 
Solitude," I shall never forget the concordance of the sound 
of his voice with the grandeur of those images; nor, in- 
deed, the gothic dignity of his aspect, his look and man- 

(*) Being so particularly engaged as not to be able to attend to 
them sufficiently. — Miss Reynolds. 

(f) ["And this at a time when he himself was living on pennies. 
— C] 



MISS REYNOLDS. 209 

ner, when repeating sublime passages. But what was very- 
remarkable, though his cadence in reading poetry was so 
judiciously emphatical as to give additional force to the 
words uttered, yet in reading prose, particularly on com- 
mon or familiar subjects, narrations, essays, letters, &c., 
nothing could be more injudicious than his manner, begin- 
ning every period with a pompous accent, and reading it 
with a whine, or with a kind of spasmodic struggle for 
utterance; and this, not from any natural infirmity, but 
from a strange singularity, in reading on, in one breath, as 
if he had made a resolution not to respire till he had closed 
the sentence. 

353. Johnson's Gesticulations. 

I believe no one has described his extraordinary gestures 
or antics (*) with his hands and feet, particularly when 
passing over the threshold of a door, or rather before he 
would venture to pass through any doorway. On entering 
Sir Joshua's house with poor Mrs. Williams, a blind lady 
who lived with him, he would quit her hand, or else whirl 
her about on the steps as he whirled and twisted about to 
perform his gesticulations; and as soon as he had finished, 
he would give a sudden spring, and make such an exten- 
sive stride over the threshold, as if he was trying for a 
wager how far he could stride, Mrs. Williams standing 
groping about outside the door, unless the servant took 
hold of her hand to conduct her in, leaving Dr. Johnson 
to perform at the parlour door much the same exercise over 
again. 

But it was not only at the entrance of a door that he 
exhibited such strange manoeuvres, but across a room or 
in the street with company, he has stopped on a sudden, as 
if he had recollected his task, and began to perform it there, 
gathering a mob round him; and when he had finished 
would hasten to his companion (who probably had walked 
on before) with an air of great satisfaction that he had done 
his duty. 

One Sunday morning, as I was walking with him in 

(*) [Mr. Boswell, frequenily, and Mr. Whyte, hav^e described 
his gestures very strikingly, though not quite in so much detail as 
Miss Reynolds. Mr. Boswell's descriptions she must have seen.] 
14 



210 JOHNSONIANA. 

Twickenham meadows, he began his antics both with his 
feet and hands, Avith the latter as if he was holding the 
reins of a horse like a jockey on full speed. But to de- 
scribe the strange positions of his feet is a difficult task; 
sometimes he would make the bock part of his heels to 
touch, sometimes his toes, as if he was aiming at making 
the form of a triangle, at least the two sides of one. 
Though indeed, whether these were his gestures on this 
particular occasion in Twickenham meadows I do not re- 
collect, it is so long since; but I well remember that they 
were so extraordinary that men, women, and children 
gathered round him, laughing. At last we sat down on 
some logs of wood by the river side, and they nearly dis- 
persed: Avhen he pulled out of his pocket Grotius "Z)e 
Veritate Religionis,'''' over which he seesawed at such a 
violent rate as to excite the curiosity of some people at a 
distance, to come and see what Avas the matter with him. 

We drank tea that afternoon at Sir John Hawkins's, 
and on our return I was surprised to hear Dr. Johnson's 
minute criticism on Lady Hawkins's dress, with every 
part of which almost he found favdt. It was amazing, so 
short-sighted as he was, how very observant he Avas of 
appearances in dress and behaviour, nay, even of the de- 
portment of servants Avhile Avaiting at table. One day, 
as his man Frank Avas attending at Sir Joshua Reynolds's 
table, he observed, Avith some emotion, that he had placed 
the salver under his arm. Nor Avould the conduct of the 
company, blind as he Avas to his own many and strange 
peculiarities, escape his animadversion on some occasions. 
He thought the use of Avater-glasses a strange perversion 
of the idea of refinement, and had a great dislike to the 
use of a pocket-handkerchief at meals, Avhen, if he hap- 
pened to have occasion for one, he would rise from his 
chair and go to some distance, Avith his back to the com- 
pany, and perform the operation as silendy as possible. 

354. Carving. — Johnson at Table. 

Few people, I have heard him say, understood the art 
of carving better than himself; but that it Avould be highly 
indecorous in him to attempt it in company, being so near- 
sighted, that it required a suspension of his breath during 
tlie operation. 



MISS REYNOLDS. 211 

It must be owned, indeed, that it Avas to be regretted 
that he did not practise a little of that delicacy in eating, 
for he appeared to want breath more at that time than 
usual. It is certain that he did not appear to the best 
advantage at the hour of repast; but of this he was per- 
fectly unconscious, owing probably to his being totally 
ignorant of the characteristic expressions of the human 
countenance, and therefore he could have no conception 
that his own expressed when most pleased anything dis- 
pleasing to others; for though, when particularly direct- 
ing his attention towards any object to spy out defects or 
perfections, he generally succeeded better than most men; 
partly, perhaps, from a desire to excite admiration of his 
perspicacity, of Avhich he was not a little ambitious — yet 
I have heard him say, and I often have perceived, that he 
could not distinguish any man's face half a yard distant 
from him, not even his own intimate acquaintance. 

That Dr. Johnson possessed the essential principles of 
politeness and of good taste (which I suppose are the same, 
at least concomitant), none who knew his virtues and his 
genius will, I imagine, be disposed to dispute. But why 
they remained with him, like gold in the ore, imfashioned 
and imseen, except in his literary capacity, no person that 
I know of has made any inquiry, though in general it has 
been spoken of as an unaccountable inconsistency in his 
character. Much, too, may be said in excuse for an ap- 
parent asperity of manners which was, at times at least, 
the natural effect of those inherent mental infirmities to 
which he was subject. His corporeal defects also contri- 
buted largely to the singularity of his manners; and a 
little reflection on the disqualifying influence of blindness 
and deafness would suggest many apologies for Dr. John- 
son's want of politeness. 

The particular instance I have just mentioned, of his 
inability to discriminate the features of any one's face, 
deserves perhaps more than any other to be taken into 
consideration, wanting, as he did, the aid of those intelli- 
gent signs, or insinuations, which the countenance displays 
in social converse, and which, in their slightest degree, 
influence and regulate the manners of the polite, or even 
the common observer. And to his defective hearing, per- 
haps, his unaccommodating manners may be equally as- 



213 JOHNSONIANA. 

cribed, which not only perckided him from the perception 
of the expressive tones of the voice of others, but from 
hearing the boisterous sound of his own: and nothing, I 
believe, more conduced to fix upon his character the gene- 
ral stigma of ill-breeding, than his loud imperious tone of 
voice, which apparently heightened the slightest dissent to 
a tone of harsh reproof; and, with his corresponding aspect, 
had an intimidating influence on those who were not much 
acquainted with him, and excited a degree of resentment 
which his words in ordinary circumstances would not have 
provoked. I have often heard him on such occasions ex- 
press great surprise, that what he had said could have given 
any offence. 

Under such disadvantages, it was not much to be won- 
dared at that Dr. Johnson should have committed many 
blunders and absurdities, and excited surprise and resent- 
ment in company; one in particular I remember. Being in 
company with Mr. Garrick and some others, who were 
unknown to Dr. Johnson, he was saying something tending 
to the disparagement of the character or of the Avorks of a 
gentleman present — I have forgot which; on which Mr. 
Garrick touched his foot under the table; but he still went 
on, and Garrick, much alarmed, touched him a second time, 
and, I believe, the third; at last Johnson exclaimed, 
" David, David, is it you? What makes you tread on 
my toes so?" This little anecdote, perhaps, indicates as 
much the want of prudence in Dr. Johnson as the want 
of sight. But had he at first seen Garrick's expressive 
countenance, and (probably) the embarrassment of the rest 
of the company on the occasion, it doubtless would not have 
happened. 

It were also much to be wished, in justice to Dr. Johnson's 
character for good manners, that many jocular and ironical 
speeches which have been reported had been noted as such, 
for the information of those who were unacquainted with 
him. 

Dr. Johnson was very ambitious of excelling in common 
acquirements, as well as the uncommon, and particularly 
in feats of activity. One day, as he was walking in Gu- 
nisbury Park (or Paddock) with some gentlemen and ladies, 
who were admiring the extraordinary size of some of the 
trees, one of the gentlemen remarked that, when he was a 



MISS REYNOLDS. 213 

boy, he made nothing of climbing' (stvarming, I think, was 
the phrase) the largest there. " Why, I can swarm it 
now," replied Dr. Johnson, which excited a hearty laugh — 
(he was then between fifty and sixty); on which he ran to 
the tree, clung round the trunk, and ascended to the 
branches, and, I believe, would have gone in amongst 
them, had he not been very earnestly entreated to descend; 
and down he came with a triumphant air, seeming to make 
nothing of it. 

At another time, at a gentleman's seat in Devonshire, as 
he and some company were sitting in a saloon, before which 
was a spacious lawn, it was remarked as a very proper 
place for running a race. A young lady present boasted 
that she could outrun any person; on which Dr. Johnson 
rose up and said, " Madam, you cannot outrun me;" and, 
going out on the lawn, they started. The lady at first had 
the advantage; but Dr. Johnson happening to have slippers 
on much too small for his feet, kicked them off up into the 
air, and ran a great length without them, leaving the lady 
far behind him, and, having Avon the victory, he returned, 
leading her by the hand, with looks of high exultation and 
delight. (*) 

Though it cannot be said that he was " in manners 
gentle," yet it justly can that he was " in affections mild," 
benevolent, and compassionate; and to this combination of 
character may, I believe, be ascribed, in a great measure, 
his extraordinary celebrity; his being beheld as a pheno- 
menon or wonder of the age. 

And yet Dr. Johnson's character, singular as it certainly 
was from the contrast of his mental endowments with the 
roughness of his manners, was, I believe, perfectly na- 
tural and consistent throughout; and to those who were 
intimately acquainted with him must, I imagine, have 
appeared so. For being totally devoid of all deceit, free 
from every tinge of affectation or ostentation, and unwarped 
by any vice, his singularities, those strong lights and 
shades that so peculiarly distinguish his character, may 
the more easily be traced to their primary and natural 
causes. 

(*) [This exhibition occurred during his visit to Devonshire iii 
1762, at the house of the lady to whom he made the avowal men- 
tioned by Boswell, vol. i. p. 368.— C]. 



214 JOHNSONIAN A. 

The luminous parts of his character, his soft affections, 
and I should suppose his strong intellectual powers, at least 
the dignified charm or radiancy of them, must be allowed 
to owe their origin to his strict, his rigid principles of re- 
ligion and virtue; and the shadowy parts of his character, 
his rough, unaccommodating manners, were in general to 
be ascribed to those corporeal defects that I have already 
observed naturally tended to darken liis perceptions of 
what may be called propriety and impropriety in general 
conversation; and of course in the ceremonious or artificial 
sphere of society gave his deportment so contrasting an 
aspect of the apparent softness and general uniformity of 
cultivated manners. 

And perhaps the joint influence of these two primeval 
causes, his intellectual excellence and his corporeal defects, 
mutually contributed to give his manners a greater degree 
of harshness than they would have had if only under the 
influence of one of them; the imperfect perceptions of the 
one not unfrequently producing misconceptions in the 
other. 

Besides these, many other equally natural causes con- 
curred to constitute the singularity of Dr. Johnson's cha- 
racter. Doubtless, the progress of his education had a 
double tendency to brighten and to obscure it. But I 
must observe, that this obscurity (implying only his awk- 
ward uncouth appearance, his ignorance of the rules of 
politeness, &c.) would have gradually disappeared at a 
more advanced period, at least could have had no man- 
ner of influence to the prejudice of Dr. Johnson's cha- 
racter, had it not been associated with those corporeal 
defects above mentioned. But, unhappily, his untaught, 
uncivilized manner seemed to render every little indecorum 
or impropriety that he committed doubly indecorous and 
improper. 



215 



Part VII. 

ANECDOTES AND REMARKS, 
BY MR. CUMBERLAND. (*) 

355. Johnson at the Tea-table. 

At the tea-table he had considerable demands upon his 
favourite beverage, and I remember when Sir Joshua Rey- 
nolds at my house reminded him that he had drunk eleven 
cups, he replied, " Sir, I did not count your glasses of wine, 
why should you number up my cups of tea?" And then, 
laughing, in perfect good-humour he added, "Sir, I should 
have released the lady from any further trouble, if it had 
not been for your remark; but you have reminded me, 
that I want one of the dozen, and I must request Mrs. 
Cumberland to round up my number." When he saw the 
readiness and complacency with which my wife obeyed 
his call, he turned a kind and cheerful look upon her, and 
said, " Madam, I must tell you for your comfort, you 
have escaped much better than a certain lady did awhile 
ago, upon whose patience I intruded greatly more than I 
have done on yours; but the lady asked me for no other 
purpose than to make a zany of me, and set me gabbling 
to a parcel of people I knew nothing of; so, madam, I 
had my revenge of her; for I swallowed five-and-twenty 
cups of her tea, and did not treat her with as many 
words." I can only say my wife would have made tea 

(*) [From Memoirs of Richard Cumberland, Esq., written by 
himself, 1807.] 



216 JOHNSONIANA. 

for him as long as the New River could have supplied her 
with water. 

It was on such occasions he was to be seen in his hap- 
piest moments, when, animated by the cheering attention 
of friends whom he liked, he Avould give full scope to those 
talents for narration in which I verily think he was unri- 
valled, both in the brilliancy of his wit, the flow of his 
humour, and the energy of his language. Anecdotes of 
times past, scenes of his own life, and characters of 
humorists, enthusiasts, crack-brained projectors, and a 
variety of strange beings that he had chanced upon, when 
detailed by him at length, and garnished with those epi- 
sodical remarks, sometimes comic, sometimes grave, which 
he would throw in with infinite fertility of fancy, were a 
treat, which, though not always to be purchased by five- 
and-twenty cups of tea, I have often had the happiness to 
enjoy for less than half the number. 

He was easily led into topics: it was not easy to turn 
him from them; but who would wish it? If a man wanted 
to show himself off by getting up and riding upon him, he 
was sure to run restive and kick him off; you might as 
safely have backed Bucephalus, before Alexander had 
lunged him. Neither did he always like to be over- 
fondled: when a certain gentleman out-acted his part in 
this way, he is said to have demanded of him, " What 
provokes your risibility, sir? Have I said anything that 
you understand? Then I ask pardon of the rest of the 
company." But this is Henderson's anecdote of him, and 
I won't swear he did not make it himself. The following 
apology, however, I myself drew from him: when speak- 
ing of his Tour, I observed to him upon some passages, as 
rather too sharp upon a country and people who had en- 
tertained him so handsomely: " Do you think so, Cum- 
bey?" he replied; " then I give you leave to say, and you 
may quote me for it, that there are more gentlemen in 
Scotland than there are shoes." 

356. "<S'/te Stoops to Conquer.'''' 

When Mr. Colman, then manager of Covent Garden 
theatre, protested against Goldsmith's last comedy, when 
as yet he had not struck upon a name for it, Johnson 
stood forth in all his terrors as champion for the piece, and 



CUMBERLAND. 217 

backed by us, his clients and retainers, demanded a fair 
trial. Colman again protested; but, with that salvo for 
his own reputation, liberally lent his stage to one of the 
most eccentric productions that ever found its way to it, 
and " She Stoops to Conquer" was put into rehearsal. 

We were not over-sanguine of success, but perfectly de- 
termined to struggle hard for our author. We accordingly 
assembled our strength at the Shakspeare Tavern in a con- 
siderable body for an early dinner, where Samuel Johnson 
took the chair at the head of a long table, and was the life 
and soul of the corps; the poet took post silently by his 
side, with the Burkes, Sir Joshua Reynolds, Caleb White- 
foord, and a phalanx of North-British predetermined ap- 
plauders under the banner of Major Mills, all good men and 
true. Our illustrious friend was in inimitable glee, and poor 
Goldsmith that day took all his raillery as patiently and 
complacently as my friend Boswell would have done any 
day, or every day of his life. In the mean time, we did not 
forget our duty; and though we had a better comedy going 
on, in which Johnson was chief actor, we betook ourselves 
in good time to our separate and allotted posts, and waited 
the awful drawing up of the curtain. As our stations were 
preconcerted, so were our signals for plaudits arranged and 
determined upon, in a manner that gave every one his cue 
where to look for them, and how to follow them up. 

We had amongst us a very worthy and efficient member, 
long since lost to his friends and the world at large, Adam 
Drummond, of amiable memory, who was gifted by nature 
with the most sonorous, and at the same time the most 
contagious laugh, that ever echoed from the human lungs. 
The neighing of the horse of the son of Hystaspes was a 
whisper to it; the whole thunder of the theatre could not 
drown it. This kind and ingenuous friend fairly forwarned 
us, that he knew no more when to give his fire than the 
cannon did that was planted on a battery. He desired 
therefore to have a flapper at his elbow, and I had the 
honour to be deputed to that office. I planted him in an 
upper box, pretty nearly over the stage, in full view of the 
pit and galleries, and perfectly well situated to give tlie echo 
all its play through the hollows and recesses of the theati*e. 
The success of our manoeuvres was complete. All eyes 
were upon Johnson, who sat in the front row of a side box, 



218 JOHNSONIANA. 

and when he laughed, every body thought themselves war- 
ranted to roar. In the mean time, my friend Drummond 
followed signals with a rattle so irresistibly comic, that, 
when he had repeated it several times, the attention of the 
spectators were so engrossed by his person and perform- 
ances, that the progress of the play seemed likely to be- 
come a secondary object, and I found it prudent to insinuate 
to him that he might halt his music Avithout any prejudice 
to the author: but, alas! it was now too late to rein him in; 
he had laughed upon my signal where he found no joke, 
and now unluckily he fancied that he found a joke in almost 
everything that was said; so that nothing in nature could 
be more mal-a-propos than some of his bursts every now 
and then were. These were dangerous moments, for the 
pit began to take umbrage; but we carried our play through, 
and triumphed not only over Colman's judgment, but our 
own. 

357. Gar rick and Johnson. 

Garrick was followed to the Abbey by a long-extended 
train of friends, illustrious for their rank and genius. I 
saw old Samuel Johnson standing beside his grave, at the 
foot of Shakspeare's monument, and bathed in tears. A 
few succeeding years laid him in earth; and though the 
marble shall preserve for ages the exact resemblance of his 
form and features, his own strong pen has pictured out a 
transcript of his mind, that shall outlive that and the very 
language which he laboured to perpetuate. Johnson's best 
days were dark; and only when his life was far in the de- 
cline, he enjoyed a gleam of fortune long withheld. Com- 
pare him Avith his countryman and contemporary last men- 
tioned, and it will be one instance among many, that the 
man who only brings the muse's bantlings into the world 
has a better lot in it than he who has the credit of beget- 
ting them. 

Shortly after Garrick's death, Dr. Johnson Avas told 
in a large company, " Your are recent from your ' Lives 
of the Poets; ' Avhy not add your friend Garrick to the 
number?" Johnson's answer was, " I do not like to be 
officious; but if Mrs. Garrick will desire me to do it, I shall 
be very willing to pay that last tribute to the memory of 



CUMBERLAND. 219 

the man I loved." This sentiment was conveyed to Mrs. 
Garrick, but no answer was ever received. 

358. Character of Johnson. 

Alas! I am not fit to paint his character; nor is there 
need of it; etiam mortuus loquitur; every man, who 
can buy a book, has bought a Boswell. Jolinson is 
known to all the reading world. I also knew him well, 
respected him highly, loved him sincerely: it was never 
my chance to see him in those moments of moroseness and 
ill-humour which are imputed to him, perhaps with truth; 
for who would slander him? But I am not warranted 
by any experience of those humours to speak of him other- 
wise than of a friend, who always met me with kindness, 
and from whom I never separated without regret. When 
I sought his company he had no capricious excuses for 
withholding it, but lent himself to every invitation with 
cordiality, and brought good-humour with him, that gave 
life to the circle he was in. 

He presented himself always in his fashion of apparel: 
a brown coat with metal buttons, black waistcoat, and 
worsted stockings, with a flowing bob wig, was the style 
of his wardrobe; but they were in perfectly good trim, 
and with the ladies, whom he generally met, he had 
nothing of the slovenly philosopher about him. He fed 
heartily, but not voraciously, and was extremely courteous 
in his commendations of any dish that pleased his palate: 
he suffered his next neighbour to squeeze the China 
oranges into his wine glass after dinner; which else per- 
chance had gone aside and trickled into his shoes; for the 
good man had neither straight sight nor steady nerves. 

Who will say that Johnson would have been such a 
champion in literature — such a front-rank soldier in the 
fields of fame — if he had not been pressed into the service, 
and driven on to glory with the bayonet of sharp necessity 
pointed at his back? If fortune had turned him into a field 
of clover, he would have lain down and rolled in it. The 
mere manual labour of writing would not have allowed 
his lassitude and love of ease to have taken the pen out of 
the inkhorn, unless the cravings of hunger had reminded 
him, that he must fill the sheet before he saw the table- 
cloth. He might, indeed, have knocked down Osborne 



220 JOHNSONIANA. 

for a blockhead, but he would not have knocked him down 
with a folio of his own writing. He would, perhaps, 
have been the dictator of a club, and wherever he sat down 
to conversation, there must have been that splash of strong 
bold thought about him, that we might still have had a 
collectanea after his death; but of prose I guess not much, 
of works of labour none, of fancy perhaps something more, 
especially of poetry, which, under favour, I conceive was 
not his tower of strength. I think we should have had his 
" Rasselas'' at all events; for he was likely enough to have 
written at Voltaire, and brought the question to the test, if 
infidelity is any aid to wit. An orator he must have been; 
not improbably a parliamentarian, and, if such, certainly an 
oppositionest, for he preferred to talk against the tide. He 
would indubitably have been no member of the Whig Club, 
no partisan of Wilks, no friend of Hume, no believer in 
Macpherson: he would have put up prayers for early 
rising, and lain in bed all day, and, with the most active 
resolutions possible, been the most indolent mortal living. 
He.Avas a good man by nature, a great man by genius; we 
are now to inquire what he was by compulsion. 

Johnson's first style was naturally energetic; his middle 
style was turgid to a fault, his latter style was softened 
down and harmonised into periods, more tuneful and more 
intelligible. His execution was rapid, yet his mind was 
not easily provoked into exertion: the variety we find in 
his writings was not the variety of choice arising from the 
impulse of his proper genius, but tasks imposed upon him 
by the dealers in ink, and contracts on his part submitted 
to in satisfaction of the pressing calls of hungry want; 
for, painful as it is to relate, I have heard the illustrious 
scholar assert (and he never varied from the truth of fact), 
that he subsisted himself for a considerable space of time 
upon the scanty pittance of four-pence halfpenny per day. 

The expanse of matter which Johnson had found room 
for in his intellectual storehouse, the correctness with which 
he had assorted it, and the readiness with which he could 
turn to any article that he wanted to make present use of, 
were the properties in him which I contemplated with the 
most admiration. Some have called him a savage; they 
were only so far right in the resemblance, as that, like the 



CUMBERLAND. 221 

savage, he never came into suspicious company without his 
spear in his hand and his bow and quiver at his back. 

In conclusion, Johnson's era was not wanting in men to 
be distinguished for their talents; yet if one M'as to be 
selected out as the first great literary character of the time, 
I believe all voices would concur in naming him. Let me 
here insert the following lines, descriptive of his charac- 
ter: — 

ON SAMDEL JOHNSON. 

Herculean strength and a Stentorian voice, 
Of wit, a fund, of words a countless choice : 
In learning rather various than profound, 
In truth intrepid, in religion sound: 
A trembling form and a distorted sight, 
But firm in judgment and in genius bright; 
In controversy seldom known to spare, 
But humble as the publican in prayer; 
To more than.merited his kindness, kind, 
And, though in manners harsh, of friendly mind, 
Deep tinged with melancholy's blackest shade, 
And, though prepared to die, of death afraid — 
Such Johnson was: of him with justice vain, 
When will this nation see his like again > 



222 JOHNSONIANA. 



Part VIII. 

ANECDOTES BY MR. CRADOCK. (*) 



359. ''(Edipusr 

The first time 1 dined in company with Dr. Johnson 
was at T. Davies's, Russell Street, Covent Garden, as men- 
tioned by Mr. Boswell, in his Life of Johnson. On men- 
tioning my engagement previously to a friend, he said, " Do 
you wish to be well with Johnson?" " To be sure, sir," I re- 
plied, " or I should not have taken any pains to have been 
introduced into his company." " Why then, sir," says he, 
" let me offer you some advice: you must not leave him soon 
after dinner to go to the play; during dinner he will be rather 
silent — it is a very serious business with him; between six 
and seven he will look about him, and see who remains, 
and, if he then at all likes the party, he will be very civil 
and communicative." He exactly fulfilled what my friend 
had prophesied. Mrs. Davies did the honours of the 
table: she was a favourite with Johnson, who sat betwixt 
her and Dr. Harwood; I sat next, below, to Mr. Boswell 
opposite. Nobody could bring Johnson foi'ward more 
civilly or properly than Davies. The subject of conver- 

(*) [P'rom Mr. Cradock's Memoirs. These anecdotes are cer- 
tainly very loose and inaccurate ; but, as they have been repub- 
lished in the Gentleman's Magazine for January, 1828, " with 
some corrections and additions from the author's MS.," I think it 
right to notice them; and, as they profess to be there enlarged 
from the MS., 1 copy this latter version, which differs, in some 
points, from the Memoirs. — C] 



CRADOCK. 223 

sation turned upon the ti-agedy of " Q3dipus."(*) This 
was particularly interesting to me, as I was then employed 
in endeavouring to make such alterations in Dry den's play, 
as to make it suitable to a revival at Drury Lane Theatre. 
Johnson did not seem to think favourably of it; but I ven- 
tured to plead, that Sophocles wrote it expressly for the 
theatre, at the public cost, and that it was one of the most 
celebrated dramas of all antiquity. Johnson said, " OEdi- 
pus Avas a poor miserable man, subjected to the greatest 
distress, without any degree of culpability of his own." I 
urged, that Aristotle, as well as most of the Greek poets, 
Avere partial to this character; that Addison considered that, 
as terror and pity were particularly excited, he was the 

properest here Johnson suddenly becoming loud, I 

paused, and rather apologised that it might not become me, 
perhaps, too strongly to contradict Dr. Johnson. " Nay, 
sir," replied he, hastily, " if I had not wished to have 
heard your arguments, I should not have disputed with 
you at all." All went on quite pleasantly afterwards. We 
sat late, and something being mentioned about my going 
to Bath, when taking leave, Johnson very graciously said, 
"I should have a pleasure in meeting you there." Either 
Boswell or Davies immediately whispered to me, " You're 
landed." 

360. Garrick. — Burke. — Goldsmith. 

The next time I had the pleasure of meeting him was at 
the Literary Club(t) dinner at the coffee-house in St. 
James's Street, to which I was introduced by my partial 
friend. Dr. Percy. Johnson that day was not in very good 
humour. We rather Avaited for dinner. Garrick came 
late, and apologised that he had been to the House of 
Lords, and Lord Camden insisted on conveying him in his 

(*) [Boswell says it turned on Aristotle's opinion of the Greek 
tragedy in general; which may, however, have led to the subject 
of CEdipus, though he does not notice it. — C] 

(t) [Here seems to be a mistake. No stranger is ever invited 
to the Club. It is probable that Mr. Cradock mistook an occa- 
sional meeting at the St. James's coffee-house (such a one did 
really produce " RetaUation") for a meeting of the Club. Mr. 
Cohnan, in his " Random Records," makes the same mistake, and 
wonders at finding noticed in ^'Retaliation" persons wt)o did not 
belong to the Club.— C] 



224 JOHNSONIANA. 

carriage: Johnson said nothing, but he looked a volume. 
The party was numerous. 1 sat next Mr. Burke at dinner. 
There was a beef-steak pie placed just before us; and I re- 
marked to Mr. Burke that something smelt very disagree- 
able, and looked to see if there was not a dog under the 
table. Burke, with great good humour, said, " I believe, 
sir, I can tell you what is the cause; it is some of my 
country butter in the crust that smells so disagreeably." 
Dr. Johnson just at that time, sitting opposite, desired one 
of us to send him some of the beef-steak pie. We sent 
but little, which he soon despatched, and then returned his 
plate for more. Johnson particularly disliked that any 
notice should be taken of what he eat, but Burke ventured 
to say he was glad to find that Dr. Johnson was anywise 
able to relish the beef-steak pie. Johnson, not perceiving 
what he alluded to, hastily exclaimed, " Sir, there is a time 
of life Avhen a man requires the repairs of the table!" The 
company rather talked for victory than social intercourse. 
I think it was in consequence of what passed that evening, 
that Dr. Goldsmith wrote his " Retaliation." Mr. Richard 
Burke (*) was present, talked most, and seemed to be the 
most free and easy of the company. I had never met him 
before. Burke seemed desirous of bringing his relative 
forward. In Mr. Chalmers's account of Goldsmith, dif- 
ferent sorts of liquor are offered as appropriate to each 
guest. To the two Burkes ale from Wicklow, and wine 
from Ferney to me: my name is in italics, as supposing I 
am a wine-bibber; but the author's allusion to the wines of 
Ferney was meant for me, I rather think, from my having 
taken a plan of a tragedy from Voltaire. 

361. Mrs. Percy. — Easton Mauduit. 

Mrs. Percy, afterwards nurse to the Duke of Kent, at 
Buckingham House, told me that Johnson once stayed 
near a month with them at their dull parsonage at Easton 
Mauduit; (t) that Dr. Percy looked out all sorts of books 
to be ready for his amusement after breakfast, and that 

(*) [Mr. Richard Burke, collector, of Grenada, the brother, not 
the son of Mr. Burke.— C] 

(t) [In the summer of 1764, Johnson paid a visit to Dr. Percy 
at his vicarage in Easton Mauduit, and spent parts of the months 
of June, July, and August with him.] 



CRA0OCK. 225 

Johnson was so attentive and polite to her, that, when Dr. 
Percy mentioned the Uterature prepared in the study, he 
said, " No, sir, I shall first wait upon Mrs. Percy to feed 
the ducks." But those halcyon days were about to 
change, — not as to Mrs. Percy, for to the last she re- 
mained a favourite with him. 

362. Dr. Percy's Charity Sermon. — ''The Idler.''' 

I happened to be in London once when Dr. Percy 
returned from Northumberland, and found that he was 
expected to preach a charity sermon almost immediately. 
This had escaped his memory; and he said, that " though 
much fatigued, he had been obliged to sit up very late to 
furnish out something from former discourses; but sud- 
denly recollecting that Johnson's fourth ' Idler' (*) was 
exactly suited to his purpose, he had freely engrafted the 
greatest part of it." He preached, and his discourse was 
much admired; but being requested to print it, he most 
strenuously opposed the honour intended him, till he was 
assured by the governors, that it was absolutely necessary, 
as the annual contributions greatly depended on the ac- 
count that was given in the appendix. In this dilemma, 
he earnestly requested that I would call upon Dr. Johnson, 
and state particulars. I assented, and endeavoured to 
introduce the subject with all due solemnity; but Johnson 
was highly diverted with his recital, and, laughing, said, 
" Pray, sir, give my kind respects to Dr. Percy, and tell 
him, I desire he will do whatever he pleases in regard to 
my ' Idler;' it is entirely at his service." 

363. Gibbon. 

But these days of friendly communication were, from 
various causes, speedily to pass away, and worse than in- 
difference to succeed: for, one morning Dr. Percy said to 
Mr. Cradock, " I have not seen Dr. Johnson for a long 
time. I believe I must just call upon him, and greatly 
wish that you would accompany me. I intend," said he, 
" to tease him a little about Gibbon's pamphlet." " I 
hope not, Dr. Percy," was my reply. "Indeed I shall, 
for I have a great pleasure in combating his narrow pre- 

(*) [On Chariiies and Hospitals.] 
15 



226 JOHNSONIANA. 

judices." We went together; and Dr. Percy opened with 
some anecdotes from Northumberland House; mentioned 
some rare books that were in the library; and then threw 
out that the town rang with applause of Gibbon's " Reply 
to Davis;" that the latter " had written before he had 
read," and that the two "confederate doctors," as Mr. 
Gibbon termed them, "had fallen into some strange errors." 
Johnson said, he knew nothing of Davis's pamphlet, nor 
would he give him any answer as to Gibbon; but if the 
" confederate doctors," as they were termed, had really 
made such mistakes as he alluded to, they were block- 
heads. Dr. Percy talked on in the most careless style 
possible, but in a A'ery lofty tone; and Johnson appeared 
to be excessively angry. I only wished to get released: 
for if Dr. Percy had proceeded to inform him, that he 
had lately introduced Mr. Hume to dine at the King's 
chaplain's table, there must have been an explosion. 

364. ''The Hermit of TFcirkworth." 

With all my partiality for Johnson, I freely declare, that 
I think Dr. Percy received very great cause to take real 
offence at one, who, by a ludicrous parody on a stanza in 
the " Hermit of Warkworth," had rendered him con- 
temptible. It was urged, that Johnson only meant to 
attack the metre; but he certainly turned the whole poem 
into ridicule: — 

" I put my hat upon my head, 
And walk'd inlo the Strand, 
And there 1 met another man 
With his hat in his hand." 

Mr. Garrick, in a letter to me, soon afterwards asked me, 
" Whether I had seen Johnson's criticism on the ' Hermit?' 
it is already," said he, "over half the town." Almost 
the last time that I ever saw Johnson, he said to me, 
" Notwithstanding all the pains that Dr. Farmer and I took 
to serve Dr. Percy, in regard to his 'Ancient Ballads,' he 
has left town for Ireland (*) without taking leave of either 
of us." 

(*) [See No. 310. Dr. Percy was made Bishop of Dromore in 
1782.- C] 



CRADOCK. 227 



365. Roxana and Stafira. 

Mr. Nichols, in his entertaining " Literary Anecdotes," 
has justly remarked, that Johnson was not always that 
surly companion he was supposed to be, and gives as an 
instance rather an impertinent joke of mine about Alexander 
and his two queens, and Johnson's good-humoured reply, 
that " in his family it had never been ascertained which 
was Roxana and which was Stat,ira;"(*) but I then had got 
experience, and pretty well knew when I might safely 
venture into the lion's mouth. 

366. " Baiting the Bear.'' 

Admiral Walsingham, who sometimes resided at Wind- 
sor, and sometimes in Portugal Street, frequently boasted 
that he was the only man to bring together miscellaneous 
parties, and make them all agreeable; and, indeed, there 
never before was so strange an assortment as I have occa- 
sionally met there. At one of his dinners, were the Duke 
of Cumberland, (t) Dr. Johnson, Mr. Nairn, the optician, 
and Mr. Leoni, the singer: at another, Dr. Johnson, &;c., 
and a young dashing officer, who determined, he whis- 
pered, to attack the old bear that Ave seemed all to stand 
in awe of. There was a good dinner, and during that 
important time Johnson was deaf to all impertinence. How- 
ever, after the wine had passed rather freely, the young 
gentleman was resolved to bait him, and venture out a little 
further. " Now, Dr. Johnson, do not look so glum, but 
1)6 a little gay and lively, like others: what would you give, 
old gentleman, to be as young and sprightly as I am?" 
" Why, sir," said he, " I think I would almost be content 
to be as foolish." • 

367. Society. — Late Hours. — Clubs. 

Johnson, it is well known, professed to recruit his ac- 
quaintance with younger persons, and, in his latter days, 

(*) [Mrs. Williams and Mrs. Desmoulins. See No. 566.] 
(t) [It is possible Dr. Johnson may have been acquainled with 
ihe Hon. Robert Boyle, who took the name of Walsingharn; but 
it is hardly possible that Dr. Johnson should have met the Duke 
of Cumberland at dinner without Mr. Boswell's having mentioned 
it.— C] 



228 JOHNSONIANA. 

I, with a few others, were more frequently honoured by 
his notice. At times he was very gloomy, and would 
exclaim, " stay with me, for it is a comfort to me" — a 
comfort that any feeling mind would wish to administer to 
a man so kind, though at times so boisterous, when he 
seized your hand, and repeated, " Ay, sir, but to die and 
go we know not where," &c. — here his morbid melancholy 
prevailed, and Garrick never spoke so impressively to the 
heart. Yet, to see him in the evening (though he took 
nothing stronger than lemonade), a stranger would have 
concluded that our morning account was a fabrication. No 
hour was too late to keep him from the tyranny of his own 
gloomy thoughts. A gentleman venturing to say to John- 
son, " Sir, I wonder sometimes that you condescend so far 
as to attend a city club." " Sir, the great chair of a full 
and pleasant club is, perhaps, the throne of human felicity." 

368. Lives of the Poets. 

I had not the honour to be at all intimate with Johnson 
till about the time he began to publish his Lives of the 
Poets; and how he got through that arduous labour is, in 
some measure, still a mystery to me: he must have been 
greatly assisted by booksellers. (*) I had some time be- 
fore lent him " Euripides" with Milton's manuscript notes: 
this, though he did not minutely examine (see Joddrel's 
" Euripides"), yet he very handsomely returned it, and 
mentioned it in his Life of Milton, (t) In the course of 
conversation one day I dropped out to him, that Lord Har- 
borough (f) (then the Rev.) was in possession of a very 
valuable collection of manuscript poems, and that amongst 
them there were two or three in the handwriting of King 
James L; that they were bouwd up handsomely in folio, 
and were entitled " Sackville's Poems." These he solicit- 
ed me to borrow for him, and Lord Harborough very 
kindly intrusted them to me for his perusal. 

(*) [The original MS. is still extant, and it appears that he had 
very little assistance, and none at all from the booksellers. — C] 

(t) ["His ' Euripides' is, by Mr. Cradock's kindness, now in my 
hands: the margin is sometimes noted, but I have fottnd nothing 
remarkable." — Life of Milton. — C] 

(t) [The Rev. Robert Sherrard, who became on the death of his 
elder brother, in 1770, fourth Earl of Harborough.— C] 



229 



369. Harrises Hermes. — Tristram Shandy. 

Harris's Hermes was mentioned. I said, " I think the 
book is too abstruse; it is heavy." " It is; but a work of 
that kind must be heavy," " A rather dull man of my ac- 
quaintance asked me," said I, " to lend him some book to 
entertain him, and I offered him Harris's Hermes, and as I 
expected, from the title, he took it for a novel: when he 
returned it, I asked him how he liked it, and what he 
thought of it? ' Why, to speak the truth,' says he, 'I was 
not much diverted; I think all these imitations of Tristram 
Shandy fall far short of the original!' " This had its effect, 
and almost produced from Johnson a rhinoceros laugh. 

370. A rude Speech. 

One of Dr. Johnson's rudest speeches was to a pomp- 
ous gentleman coming out of Lichfield cathedral, who said, 
" Dr. Johnson, we have had a most excellent discourse to- 
day!" " That may be," said Johnson; " but, it is im- 
possible that you should know it." 

Of his kindness to me during the last years of his most 
valuable life, I could enumerate many instances. One 
slight circumstance, if any were wanting, would give an 
excellent proof of the goodness of his heart, and that to a 
person whom he found in distress. In such a case he 
was the very last man that would have given even the least 
momentary uneasiness to any one, had he been aware of 
it. The last time I saw him was just before I went to 
France, He said, with a deep sigh, " I wish I was going 
with you." He had just then been disappointed of going 
to Italy. Of all men I ever knew. Dr. Johnson was the 
most instructive. 



230 JOHNSONIANA. 



Part IX. 

ANECDOTES, 
BY MR. WICKINS OF LICHFIELD. (*) 



371. Deception. 

Walking one day with him in my garden at Lichfield, 
we entered a small meandering shrubbery, whose " vista 
not lengthened to the sight," gave promise of a larger ex- 
tent. I observed, that he might perhaps conceive that he 
was entering an extensive labyrinth, but that it would prove 
a deception, though I hoped not an unpardonable one. 
♦' Sir," said he, " don't tell me of deception; a lie, sir, is a 
lie, whether it be a lie to the eye or a lie to the ear." 

372. Urns. 

Passing on we came to an urn which I had erected to 
the memory of a deceased friend. I asked him how he 
liked that urn — it was of the true Tuscan order. " Sir," 
said he, " I hate urns; they are nothing, they mean no- 
thing, they convey no ideas but ideas of horror — would 
they were beaten to pieces to pave our streets!" 



(*) [Dr. Harwood informs me that Mr. Wickins was a respect- 
able draper in Lichfield. It is very true that Dr. Johnson was 
accustomed to call on him during his visits to his native town. 
The garden attached to his house was ornamented in ihe manner 
he describes, and no doubt was ever entertained of the exactness 
of his anecdotes. —C] 



WICKINS. 231 



373. Cold Baths. 

We then came to a cold bath. I expatiated upon its 
salubrity. " Sir," said he, " how do you do?" " Very 
well, I thank you, Doctor." " Then, sir, let well enough 
alone, and be content. I hate immersion." Truly, as 
FalstafFsays, the Doctor " would have a sort of alacrity at 
sinking. "(*) 

374. The Venus de Medicis. 

Upon the margin stood the Venus de Medicis — 

" So stands the statue that enchants the world." 

" Throw her," said he, " into the pond to hide her naked- 
ness, and to cool her lasciviousness." 

375. Arcadia. 

He then, with some difficulty, squeezed himself into a 
root-house, when his eye caught the following lines from 
Parnell: — 

" Go search among your idle dreams, 
Your busy, or your vain extremes, 
And find a life of equal bliss, 
Or own the next began in this." 

The Doctor, however, not possessing any sylvan ideas, 
seemed not to admit that heaven could be an Arcadia. 

376. Doing Good. 

I then observed him with Herculean strength tugging at 
a nail which he was endeavouring to extract from the bark 
of a plum-tree; and having accomplished it, he exclaimed, 
" There, sir, I have done some good to-day; the tree might 
have festered. I make a rule, sir, to do some good every 
day of my life." 

377. Sterne^s Sermons. 

Returning through the house, he stepped into a small 
study or book-room. The first book he laid his hands 

(♦) [A mistake — he was a good swimmer. See Boswell, vol. 
vj. p. 218.— C] 



232 JOHNSONIANA. 

upon was Harwood's (*) "Liberal Translation of the New- 
Testament." The passage which first caught his eye was 
from that sublime apostrophe in St, John, upon the raising 
of Lazarus, "Jesus wept;" which Harwood had conceit- 
edly rendered " and Jesus, the Saviour of the world, burst 
into a flood of tears." He contemptuously threw the book 
aside, exclaiming, " Puppy!" I then showed him Sterne's 
Sermons. " Sir," said he, " do you ever read any others?" 
" Yes, Doctor; I read Sherlock, Tillotson, Beveridge, 
and others." " Ay, sir, there you drink the cup of salva- 
tion to the bottom; here you have merely the froth from 
the surface." 

378. Shakspeare' s Mulberry Vase. — Garrick. 

Within this room stood the Shakspearean mulberry 
vase, a pedestal given by me to Mr. Garrick, and which 
was recently sold, with Mr. Garrick's gems, at Mrs. 
Garrick's sale at Hampton. The Doctor read the inscrip- 
tion: — 

"Sacrkd to Shakspeare, 

And in honour of 

David Garrick, Esq. 

The Ornament— the Reformer 

Ol the British Stage." (+) 

" Ay, sir; Davy, Davy loves flattery; but here, indeed, 
you have flattered him as he deserves, paying a just tribute 
to his merit." 

(*) [The reader must bear in mind that this Doctor Edward 
Harwood, the same mentioned by Mr. Cradock, and who has been 
dead many years, is not lu be confounded with Dr. Thomas Har- 
wood. of Lichfield, who is now alive, and whose information is 
quoted at the beginning of this article. — C] 

(t) [This vase is now in the rich collection of Thomas Hill, 
Esq., of the Adelphi. New Monthly Mag., v. xliv.] 



233 



Part X. 

ANECDOTES, 
BY MR. GREEN, OF LICHFIELD. 



379. Dr. Kippis. — Royal Society. 

Dr. Brocklesby, a few days before the death of Dr. 
Johnson, found on the table Dr. Kippis's account of the 
Disputes of the Royal Society. Dr. Johnson inquired of 
his physician if he had read it, Avho answered in the ne- 
gative. " You have sustained no loss, sir. It is poor 
stufi', indeed, a sad unscholar-like performance. I could 
not have believed that that man would have written so ill." 

380. Dr. Warren. 

Being desired to call in Dr. Warren, he said, they might 
call in anybody they pleased; and Warren was called. At 
his going away, " You have come in," said Dr. Johnson, 
" at the eleventh hour; but you shall be paid the same with 
your fellow-labourers. Francis, put into Dr. Warren's 
coach a copy of the ' English Poets.' " 

381. Fear of Death. 

Some years before, some person in a company at Salis- 
bury, of which Dr. Johnson was one, vouched for the 
company, that there was nobody in it afraid of death — 
" Speak for yourself, sir," said Johnson, " for indeed I 
am." "I did not say of dying,'''' replied the other; "hut 
of death, meaning its consequences." " And so I mean," 
rejoined the Doctor; " I am very seriously afraid of the 
consequences." 



234 JOHNSONIANA. 



Part XI. 

ANECDOTES, 
BY THE REV. MR. PARKER. (*) 

382. Stow-Hill. 

Dr. Johnson's friendship for Mrs. Elizabeth Aston com- 
menced at the palace in Lichfield, the residence of Mr. 
Walmesley: with Mrs. Gastrel he became acquainted in 
London, at the house of her brother-in-law, Mr. Hervey. 
During the Doctor's annual visits to his daughter-in-law, 
Lucy Porter, he spent much of his time at Stow-Hill, 
where Mrs. Gastrel and Mrs. Elizabeth Aston resided. 
They were the daughters of Sir Thomas Aston, of Aston 
Hall in Cheshire, of whom it is said, that being applied 
to for some account of his family, to illustrate the history 
of Cheshire, he replied, that " the title and estate had de- 
scended from father to son for thirty generations, and that 
he believed they were neither much richer nor much poorer 
than they were at first." 

383. Dr. Hunter. — Miss Seward. 

He used to say of Dr. Hunter, master of the free gram- 
mar school, Lichfield, that he never taught a boy in his 
life — he whipped and they learned. Hunter was a pomp- 
ous man, and never entered the school without his gown 
and cassock, and his wig full dressed. He had a remark- 



(*) The following anecdotes are told by Mr. Parker, from the 
relation of Mrs. Aston and her sister. 



PARKER. 235 

ably stern look, and Dr. Johnson said, he could tremble at 
the sight of Miss Seward, she was so like her grandfather. 

384. Lives of the Poets. 

Mrs. Gastrel was on a visit at Mr. Hervey's, in London, 
at the time that .Tohnson was writing the Rambler: the 
printer's boy would often come after him to their house, 
and wait while he wrote off a paper for the press in a room 
full of company. A great portion of the Lives of the Poets 
was written at Stow-Hill: he had a table by one of the 
windows, which was frequently surrounded by five or six 
ladies engaged in work or conversation. Mrs. Gastrel had 
a very valuable edition of Bailey's Dictionary, to which 
she often referred. She told him that Miss Seward said 
that he had made poetry of no value by his criticism. 
" Why, my dear lady," replied he, " if silver is dirty, it is 
not the less valuable for a good scouring." 

385. Climbing. 

A. large party had one day been invited to meet the 
Doctor at Stow-Hill: the dinner waited far beyond the 
visual hour, and the company were about to sit down, 
when Johnson appeared at the great gate; he stood for some 
time in deep contemplation, and at length began to climb 
it, and, having succeeded in clearing it, advanced with 
hasty strides towards the house. On his arrival Mrs. 
Gastrel asked him, "if he had forgotten that there was a 
small gate for foot passengers by the side of the carriage 
entrance." " No, my dear lady, by no means," replied 
the Doctor; " but I had a mind to try whether I could 
climb a gate now as I used to do when I was lad." 

386. Cato^s Soliloquy. 

One day Mrs. Gastrel set a little girl to repeat to . him 
Cato's soliloquy, which she went through very correctly. 
The Doctor, after a pause, asked the child, " What was to 
bring Cato to an end?" She said, it was a knife. " No, 
my dear, it was not so." " My aunt Polly said it was a 
knife." " Why aunt Polly's knife may do, but it was a 
dagger, my dear." He then asked her the meaning of 
" bane and antidote," which she was unable to give, Mrs. 
Gastrel said, " You cannot expect so young a child to 



236 JOHNSONIANA. 

know the meaning of such words." He then said, " My 
dear, how many pence are there in sixpence?''^ " I can- 
not tell, sir," was the half-terrified reply. On this, ad- 
dressing himself to Mrs. Gastrel, he said, " Now, my 
dear lady, can anything be more ridiculous than to teach a 
child Cato's soliloquy, who does not know how many 
pence there are in sixpence?" 

387. Charity. 

The ladies at Stow-Hill would occasionally rebuke Dr. 
Johnson for the indiscriminate exercise of his charity to 
all who applied for it. " There was that woman," said 
one of them, " to whom you yesterday gave hall-a-crown, 
why she was at church to-day in long sleeves and ribands." 
" Well, my dear," replied Johnson, " and if it gave the 
woman pleasure, why should she not wear them?" 

388. Gilbert Walmesley. 

He had long promised to write Mr. Walmesley's epi- 
taph, and Mrs. W. waited for it, in order to erect a monu- 
ment to her husband's memory; procrastination, however, 
one of the Doctor's few failings, prevented its being 
finished; he was engaged upon it in his last illness, and 
when the physicians, at his own request, informed him of 
his danger, he pushed the papers from before him, saying, 
" It was too late to write the epitaph of another, when he 
should so soon want one himself." 



337 



Part XII. 

ANECDOTES, 
BY MRS. ROSE.(*) 

389. The Dockers. 

Dr. Mudge used to relate as a proof of Dr. Johnson's 
quick discernment into character: — When he was on a 
visit to Dr. Mudge at Plymouth, the inhabitants of the 
Dock (now Devonport) were very desirous of their town 
being supplied with water, to effect which it was necessary 
to obtain the consent of the corporation of Plymouth; this 
was obstinately refused, the Dock being considered as an 
upstart. And a rival, Alderman Tolcher, who took a very 
strong part, called one morning, and immediately opened 
on the subject to Dr. Johnson, who appeared to give great 
attention, and, when the alderman had ceased speaking, 
replied, " You are perfectly right, sir; I would let the 
rogues die of thirst, for I hate a Docker from my heart." 
The old man went away quite delighted, and told all his 
acquaintances how completely " the great Dr. Johnson was 
on his side of the question." (t) 

(*) [Mrs. Rose, who has obligingly communicated these anec- 
doles, is ihe daughter of Dr. Fair of Plymouth, and the daughter- 
in-law of Dr. Johnson's old friend. Dr. Rose, of Chiswick. — C] 

(t) [This story is told by Mr. Boswell, and commented upon by 
Mr. Blakeway, as if Dr. Jolinson had seriously entered into the 
.spirit of the contest; whereas Dr. Mudge, more naturally, repre- 
sents him as flallering, with an ironical vehemence, the preju- 
dices of the worthy alderman, who is known, from other circum- 
stances, to have been of a very zealous di.sposition. — C] 



238 JOHNSONIANA. 

390. Calumny. — Ridicule, 

It was after the publication of the Lives of the Poets 
that Dr, Farr, being engaged to dine with Sir Joshua 
Reynolds, mentioned, on coming in, that, in his way, he 
had seen a caricature, which he thought clever, of the nine 
muses flogging Dr. Johnson round Parnassus. The ad- 
mirers of Gray and others, who thought their favourites 
hardly treated in the Lives, were laughing at Dr. Farr's 
account of the print, when Dr. Johnson was himself an- 
nounced. Dr. Farr being the only stranger. Sir Joshua 
introduced him, and to Dr. Farr's infinite embarrassment, 
repeated what he had just been telling them. Johnson 
was not at all surly on the occasion, but said, turning to 
Dr. Farr, " Sir, I am very glad to hear this. I hope the 
day will never arrive when I shall neither be the object of 
calumny or ridicule, for then I shall be neglected and 
forgotten. "(*) 

391. ''Fiddle-de-dee:' 

It was near thetclose of his life that two young ladies, 
who were warm admirers of his works, but had never seen 
himself, went to Bolt Court, and, asking if he was at 
home, were shown up stairs, where he was writing. He 
laid down his pen on their entrance; and, as they stood 
before him, one of the females repeated a speech of some 
length, previously prepared for the occasion. It was an 
enthusiastic effusion, which, when the speaker had finished, 
she panted for her idol's reply. What was her mortifica- 
tion when all he said was, " Fiddle-de-dee, my dear." 

392. Hayley. 

Much pains were taken by Mr. Hayley's friends to pre- 
vail on Dr. Johnson to read " The Triumphs of Temper," 
when it was in its zenith; at last he consented, but never 

(*) [This was his usual declaration on all such occasions. If 
Johnson had been an amateur author, abuse and even criticism 
would no doubt have given him pain, but, to an author by profes- 
sion, and one who, for so many years, had lived by his pen, the 
greatest misfortune would be neglect: for his daily bread depended 
on the sensation his works might create. This observation will 
be found applicable to many other cases. — C] 



ROSE. 239 

{jot beyond the two first pages, of which he uttered a few 
words of contempt that I have now forgotten. They 
were, however, carried to the author, who revenged him- 
self by portraying Johnson as Rumble in his comedy of 
" The Mausoleum;" and subsequently he published, with- 
out his name, a " Dialogue in the Shades between Lord 
Chesterfield and Dr. Johnson," more distinguished for 
malignity than wit. Being anonymous, and possessing 
very little merit, it fell still-born from the press. 

393. Mrs. Montagu. — Lord Lyttleton. 

Dr. Johnson sent his "Life of Lord Lyttleton" in MS. 
to Mrs. Montagu, who Avas much dissatisfied with it, and 
thought her friend every way underrated; but the Doctor 
made no alteration. When he subsequently made one of 
a party at Mrs. Montagu's, he addressed his hostess two or 
three times after dinner, with a view to engage her in con- 
versation: receiving only cold and brief answers, he said, 
in a low voice to General Paoli, who sat next him, and 
who told me the story, " You see, sir, I am no longer the 
man for Mrs. Montagu." 

39t. Favourite Couplet. 

Mrs. Piozzi related to me, that when Dr. Johnson one 
day observed, that poets in general preferred some one 
couplet they had written to any other, she replied, that she 
did not suppose he had a favourite; he told her she was 
mistaken — he thought his best lines were: — 

" The encumbered oar scarce leaves the hostile coast, 
Through purple billows and a floating host." 



240 JOHNSONIANA. 



Part XIII. 

ANECDOTES OF DR. JOHNSON, 
BY WILLIAM SEWARD, ESQ.(*) 



395. Sir Robert Walpole. 

Dr. Johnson said one day of Sir Robert Walpole, that 
he was the best mmister this country ever had; " for," said 
he, " he would have kept it in perpetual peace, if we" — 
meaning the tories and those in opposition to him — " would 
have let him." 

396. Roranntic Virtue. 

Dr. Johnson used to advise his friends to be upon their 
guard against romantic virtue, as being founded upon no 
settled principle: " a plank," said he, " that is tilted up at 
one end, must of course fall down on the other." 

397. Little Books. 

Another admonition of his was, never to go out without 
some little book or other in their pocket. " Much time," 
added he, " is lost by waiting, by travelling, &c., and this 
may be prevented, by making use of every possible oppor- 
tunity for improvement." 

398. Languages. 
" The knowledge of various languages," said he, "may 

(*) [Author of " Anecdotes of Dii,linguished Persons," " Bio- 
graphiana, &c."] 



SEWARD. 241 

be kept up by occasionally using Bibles and prayer-books 
in them at church." 

399. Christian Religion. 

In a conversation with the Due de Chaulnes, the duke 
said to Johnson, " that the morality of the different reli- 
gions existing in the world was nearly the same." " But 
you must acknowledge, my lord, said the Doctor, " that 
the Christian religion puts it upon its proper basis — the 
fear and love of God." 

400. Dr. Blimey. 

Of the musical tracts of Dr. Burney this great critic in 
style thought so highly, that he told a friend of his, after he 
had published his Scotch Tour, " Sir, I had Burney in my 
eye all the while I was writing my Journal." 

401. Mrs. Montagu. — Shakspeare. — Voltaire. 

Of Mrs. Montagu's elegant " Essay upon Shakspeare," 
he always said, that it was ad hominem; that it was con- 
clusive against Voltaire; and that she had done what she 
intended to do." 

402. Preface to Shakspeare. 

Johnson's Preface to his edition of Shakspeare was 
styled by Dr. Adam Smith, the most manly piece of criti- 
cism that was ever published in any country. 

403. Infant Hercules. 

Sir Joshua Reynolds, in his picture of the infant Her- 
cules, painted for the Empress of Russia, in the person of 
Tiresias the soothsayer, gave an adumbration of Johnson's 
manner. 

404. Due de Montmorenci. 

In a conversation with Dr. Johnson on the subject of 
this nobleman, he said, " Had I been Richelieu, I could 
not have found in my heart to have suffered the first 
Christian baron to die by the hands of the executioner." 
16 



342 JOHNSONIANA. 



405. Music. 

Dr. Johnson was observed by a musical friend of his to 
be extremely inattentive at a concert, whilst a celebrated 
solo player was running up the divisions and subdivisions 
of notes upon his violin. His friend, to induce him to 
take greater notice of what was going on, told him how ex- 
tremely difficult it was. " Difficult do you call it, sir?" 
replied the Doctor: " I wish it were impossible." 

406. Voltaire. 

Dr. Johnson told Voltaire's antagonist Freron, that vir 
erat acerrimi ingenii, ac paucarum literarmn; and War- 
burton says of him, that " he wrote indifferently wellupon_ 
everything." 



243 



Part XIV. 

ANECDOTES OF DR. JOHNSON, 
BY OZIAS HUMPHRY, R.A. (^) 



407. Johnson in 1764. 

The day after I Avrote my last letter to you I was intro- 
duced to JMr. Johnson by a friend: we passed through three 
very dirty rooms to a litde one that looked like an old 
counting-house, where this great man was sat at his break- 
fast. The furniture of this room was a very large deal 
writing-desk, an old walnut-tree table, and five ragged 
chairs of four different sets. I was very much struck with 
Mr. Johnson's appearance, and could hardly help thinking 
him a madman for some time, as he sat waving over his 
breakfast like a lunatic. 

He is a very large man, and was dressed in a dirty 
brown coat and waistcoat, with breeches that were brown 
also (though they had been crimson), and an old black 
wig: his shirt collar and sleeves were unbuttoned; his 
stockings were down about his feet; which had on them, 
by way of slippers, an old pair of slioes. He had not 
been up long when we called on him, which was near one 
o'clock: he seldom goes to bed till near two in the morn- 
ing; and Mr. Reynolds tells me he generally drinks tea 

(*) [In a letter to his brother, the Rev. William Humphr)'-, 
Rector of Kemsing and Seal, in Kent, and Vicar of Birling: from 
the original, in the po.ssession of Mr. Upcott, dated September 19, 
1764. For BoswcU's account of Mr. Humphry, see Life, vol. v. 
p. 163.] 



244 JOHNSONIANA. 

about an hour after he has supped. We had been some 
time with him before he began to talk, but at length he 
began, and, faith, to some purpose! everything he says is 
as correct as a second edition: 'tis almost impossible to 
argue with him, he is so sententious and so knowing. 

408. Sir Joshua Reynolds. 

I asked him, if he had seen Mr. Reynolds's pictures 
lately. " No, sir." " He has painted many fine ones." 
" I know he has," he said, " as I hear he has been fully 
employed." I told him, I imagined Mr. Reynolds was 
not much pleased to be overlooked by the court, as he 
must be conscious of his superior merit. " Not at all dis- 
pleased," he said; " Mr. Reynolds has too much good 
sense to be affected by it: when he was yovmger he be- 
lieved it would have been agreeable; but now he does not 
want their favour. It has ever been more profitable to be 
popular among the people than favoured by the King: it 
is no reflection on Mr. Reynolds not to be employed by 
them; but it will be a reflection for ever on the court not 
to have employed him. The King, perhaps, knows no- 
thing but that he employs the best painter; and as for the 
queen, I don't imagine she has any other idea of a picture, 
but that it is a thing composed of many colours." 

409. Bath. 

When Mr. Johnson understood that I had lived some 
time in Bath, he asked me many questions that led, indeed, 
to a general description of it. He seemed very Avell 
pleased; but remarked, that men and women bathing to- 
gether, as they do at Bath, is an instance of barbarity, that 
he believed could not be paralleled in any part of the world. 
He entertained us about an hour and a half in this manner; 
then we took our leave. I must not omit to add, that I am 
informed he denies himself many conveniences, though he 
cannot well aff'ord any, that he may have more in his 
power to give in charities. 



245 



Part XV. 

ANECDOTES OF DR. JOHNSON, 
BY SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. (*) 



410. Johnson's Conversation. — Sir Joshua Reynolds''s 
^^ Discourses.'''' — Jlrt of Thinking. 

I REMEMBER Mr. Burke, speaking of the Essays of Sir 
Francis Bacon, said, he thought them the best of his 
works. Dr. Johnson was of opinion, that " their excel- 
lence and their value consisted in being the observations 
of a strong mind operating upon life; and in consequence 
you find there what you seldom find in other books." It 
is this kind of excellence which gives a value to the per- 
formances of artists also. It is the thoughts expressed in 
the works of Michael Angelo, Coreggio, Raflfaelle, Par- 
megiano, and perhaps some of the old Gothic masters, and 
not the inventions of Pietro da Cortona, Carlo Marati, 
Luca Giordano, and others, that I might mention, which 
we seek after with avidity; from the former we learn to 
think originally. 

May I presume to introduce myself on this occasion, 
and even to mention, as an instance of the truth of what 
I have remarked, the very discourses which I have had 
the honour of delivering from this place? Whatever merit 
they have, must be imputed, in a great measure, to the 
education which I may be said to have had under Dr. 

(*) [From an unfinished discourse, found by Mr. Malone among 
Sir Joshua's loose papers. See Works, vol. i. p. 9.] 



246 JOHNSONIANA. 

Johnson. I do not mean to say, that it certainly would 
be to the credit of these discourses, if I could say it with 
truth, that he contributed even a single sentiment to them;, 
but he qualified my mind to think justly. No man had, 
like him, the faculty of teaching inferior minds the art of 
thinking. Perhaps other men might have equal know- 
ledge; but few were so communicative. His great pleasure 
was to talk to those who looked up to him. It was here 
he exhibited his wonderful powers. In mixed company, 
and frequently in company that ought to have looked up 
to him, many, thinking they had a character for learning 
to support, considei-ed it as beneath them to enlist in the 
train of his auditors; and to such persons he certainly did 
not appear to advantage, being often impetuous and over- 
bearing. 

The desire of shining in conversation was in him, in- 
deed, a predominant passion; and if it must be attributed to 
vanity, let it at the same time be recollected, that it pro- 
duced that loquaciousness from which his more intimate 
friends derived considerable advantage. The observations 
vvrhich he made on poetry, on life, and on everything about 
us, I applied to our art; with Avhat success, others must 
judge. Perhaps an artist in his studies should pursue the 
same conduct; and, instead of patching up a particular work 
on the narrow plan of imitation, rather endeavour to ac- 
quire the art and power of thinking. 

411. Johnson'' s Style of Conversation. 

[ The following jeu d'espril was written by Sir Joshua Reynolds to 
illustrate a remark which he had made, that '■'■Dr. Johnson consider- 
ed Garrick as his property, and would never suffer any one to praise 
or abuse him but himself." In the first of these supposed dialogues, 
Sir Joshua himself, by high encamiums upon Garrick, is represent- 
ed as drawing down upon him Johnson's censure; in the second, 
Mr. Gibbon, by taking the opposite side, calls forth his praise. 

TWO DIALOGUES IN IMITATION OF JOHNSON's STYLE OF 
CONVERSATION. (*) 

JOHNSON AGAINST GARRICK. 

Dr. Johnson and Sir Joshua Reynolds. 
Reynolds. Let me alone, I'll bring him out. {Aside.) 

(*) [These Dialogues were printed in 181G from the MS. of Sir 



SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 247 

I have been thinking, Dr. Johnson, this morning, on a 
matter that has puzzled me very much; it is a subject 
that I dare say has often passed in your thoughts, and 
though / cannot, I dare say you have made up your mind 
upon it. 

Johnson. Tilly fally! what is all this preparation, \vhat 
is all this miglity matter? 

Rey. Why, it is a very weighty matter. The subject 
I have been thinking upon is, predestination and freewill, 
two things I cannot reconcile together for the life of me; 
in my opinion, Dr. Johnson, freewill and foreknowledge 
cannot be reconciled. 

Johns. Sir, it is not of very great importance what your 
opinion is upon such a question. 

Rev. But I meant only, Dr. Johnson, to know your 
opinion. 

Johns. No, sir, you meant no such thing; you meant 
only to show these gentlemen that you are not the man 
they took you to be, but that you think of high matters 
sometimes, and that you may have the credit of having it 
said that you held an argument with Sam. Johnson on 
predestination and freewill; a subject of that magnitude 
as to have engaged the attention of the world, to have per- 
plexed the wisdom of man for these two thousand years; 
a subject on which the fallen angels, who had yet not lost 
their original brightness, find themselves in wandering 
mazes lost. That such a subject could be discussed in the 

Joshua, by his niece, Lady Thomond: they were not published, 
but distributed by her ladyship to some friends of Dr. Johnson 
and Sir Joshua. The copy which I have was spontaneously trans- 
mitted to me by Mrs. Gwynn, the friend of Goldsmith and of John- 
son, whose early beauty is noticed by Boswell, and who is still 
distinguished for her amiable character and high mental accom- 
plishments. Lady Thomond, in the prefatory note, calls this a 
"je« d'e sprit ;"h\i\. I was informed by the late Sir Joshua Beaumont, 
who knew all the parties, and to whom Reynolds himself gave a 
copy of it, that if the words _;'«<■ (Tesprit were to be understood to 
imply that it was altogether an invention of Sir Joshua's, the term 
would be erroneous. The substance, and many of the expressions, 
of ihe dialogues did really occur; Sir Joshua did little more than 
collect, as if into two conversations, what had been uttered at many, 
and heighten the effect by the juxtaposition of such discordant 
opinions. — C] 



248 JOHNSONIANA. 

levity of convivial conversation, is a degree of absurdity 
beyond what is easily conceivable. 

Rey. It is so, as you say, to be sure; I talked once to 
our friend Garrick upon this subject, but I remember we 
could make nothing of it. 

4oHNS. O noble pair! 

Rey. Garrick was a clever fellow, Dr. J.; Garrick, take 
him altogether, was certainly a very great man. 

Johns. Garrick, sir, may be a great man in your opinion, 
as far as I know, but he was not so in mine; little things 
are great to little men. 

Rey. I have heard you say. Dr. Johnson 

Johns. Sir, you never heard me say that David Garrick 
was a great man; you may have heard me say that Gar- 
rick was a good repeater — of other men's words — words 
put into his mouth by other men; this makes but a faint 
approach towards being a great man. 

Rey. But take Garrick upon the whole, now, in regard 
to conversation 

Johns. Well, sir, in regard to conversation, I never 
discovered in the conversation of David Garrick any intel- 
lectual energy, any wide grasp of thought, any extensive 
comprehension of mind, or that he possessed any of those 
powers to which great could, with any degree of propriety, 
be applied. 

Rey. But still 

Johns. Hold, sir, T have not done — there are, to be 
sure, in the laxity of colloquial speech, various kinds of 
^eatness; a man may be a great tobacconist, a man may 
be a great painter, he may be likewise a great mimic: now 
you may be the one, and Garrick the other, and yet neither 
of you be great men. 

Rey. But, Dr. Johnson 

Johns. Hold, sir; I have often lamented how dangerous 
it is to investigate and to discriminate character to men who 
have no discriminative powers. 

Rey. But Garrick, as a companion, I heard you say — no 

longer ago than last Wednesday, at Mr. Thrale's table 

Johns. You tease me, sir. Whatever you may have 
heard me say — no longer ago than last Wednesday, at Mr. 
Thrale's table, I tell you I do not say so now: besides, as 



SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 249 

I said before, you may not have understood me, you mis- 
apprehended me, you may not have heard me. 

Rey. I am very sure 1 heard you. 

Johns. Besides, besides, sir, besides — do you not know 
— are you so ignorant as not to know, that it is the highest 
degree of rudeness to quote a man against himself? 

Rey. But if you differ from yourself, and give one opin- 
ion to-day 

Johns. Have done, sir; the company, you see, are tired, 
as well as myself." 

t'other side. 

Dr. Johnson and Mr. Gibbon. 

Johnson. No, sir: Garrick's fame was prodigious, not 
only in England, but over all Europe. Even in Russia I 
have been told he was a proverb; when any one had re- 
peated well, he was called a second Garrick. 

Gibbon. I think be had full as much reputation as he 
deserved. 

Johns. I do not pretend to know, sir, what your mean- 
ing may be, by saying he had as much reputation as he de- 
served; he deserved much, and he had much. 

Gib. Why, surely. Dr. Johnson, his merit was in small 
things only, he had none of those qualities that make a real 
great man. 

Johns. Sir, I as little understand what your meaning 
may be when you speak of the qualities that make a great 
man; it is a vague term. Garrick was no common man; 
a man above the common size of men may surely, without 
any great impropriety, be called a great man. In my 
opinion he has very reasonably fulfilled the prophecy 
which he once reminded me of having made to his mother, 
when she asked me how little David went on at school, 
that I should say to her, that he would come to be hanged, 
or come to be a great man. No, sir, it is undoubtedly 
true that the same qualities, united with virtue or with 
viee, make a hero or a rogue, a great general or a highway- 
man. Now Garrick, we are sure, was never hanged, and 
in regard to his being a great man, you must take the 
whole man together. It must be considered in how many 
things Garrick excelled in which every man desires to 



250 JOHNSONIANA. 

excel: setting aside his excellence as an actor, in which he 
is acknowledged to be unrivalled: as a man, as a poet, as a 
convivial companion, you will find but few his equals, and 
none his superior. As a man, he was kind, friendly, bene- 
volent, and generous. 

Gib. Of Garrick's generosity I never heard; I under- 
stood his character to be totally the reverse, and that he 
was reckoned to have loved money. 

Johns. That he loved money, nobody will dispute; 
who does not? but if you mean, by loving money, that he 
was parsimonious to a fault, sir, you have been misinform- 
ed. To Foote, and such scoundrels, who circulated those 
reports, to such profligate spendthrifts prudence is mean- 
ness, and economy is avarice. That Garrick, in early 
youth, was l)rought up in strict habits of economy, I be- 
lieve, and that they were necessary, I have heard from 
himself; to suppose that Garrick might inadvertently act 
from this habit, and be saving in small things, can be no 
wonder; but let it be remembered at the same time, that if 
he was frugal by habit, he was liberal from principle; that 
when he acted from reflection, he did what his fortune en- 
abled him to do, and what was expected from such a for- 
tune. I remember no instance of David's parsimony but 
once, when he stopped Mrs. Woffington from replenishing 
the tea-pot; it was already, he said, as red as blood; and this 
instance is doubtful, and happened many years ago. In 
the latter part of his life I observed no blameable parsi- 
mony in David; his table was elegant and even splendid; 
his house both in town and country, his equipage, and I 
think all his habits of life, were such as might be expected 
from a man who had acquired great riches. In regard to 
his generosity, which you seem to question, I shall only 
say, there is no man to whom I would apply with more 
confidence of success, for the loan of two hundred pounds 
to assist a common friend, than to David, and this too with 
very little, if any, probability of its being repaid. 

Gib. You were going to say something of him as a 
writer — you don't rate him very high as a poet. 

Johns. Sir, a man may be a respectable poet without 
being a Homer, as a man may be a good player without 
being a Garrick. In the lighter kinds of poetry, in the 
appendages of the drama, he was, if not the first, in the 



SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 251 

very first class. He had a readiness and facility, a dexterity 
of mind that appeared exti'aordinary even to men of expe- 
rience, and who are not apt to wonder from ignorance. 
Writing prologues, epilogues, and epigrams, he said he 
considered as his trade, and he was, Avhat a man should be, 
always, and at all times, ready at his trade. He required 
two hours for a prologue or epilogue, and five minutes for 
an epigram. Once at Burke's table the company proposed 
a subject, and Garrick finished his epigram within the 
time: the same experiment was repeated in the garden, and 
with the same success. 

Gib. Garrick had some flippancy of parts, to be sure, 
and was brisk and lively in company, and by the help of 
mimicry and story-telling, made himself a pleasant com- 
panion: but here the whole world gave the superiority to 
Foote, and Garrick himself appears to have felt as if his 
genius was rebuked by the superior powers of Foote. It 
has been often observed, that Garrick never dared to enter 
into competition with him, but was content to act an under- 
part to bring- Foote out. 

Johns. That this conduct of Garrick's might be inter- 
preted by the gross minds of Foote and his friends, as if 
he was afraid to encounter him, I can easily imagine. 
Of the natural superiority of Garrick over Foote, this con- 
duct is an instance: he disdained entering into competition 
with such a fellow, and made him the buffoon of the com- 
pany; or, as you say. brought him out. And what was 
at last brought out but coarse jests and vulgar merriment, 
indecency and impiety, a relation of events which, upon 
the face of them, could never have happened, characters 
grossly conceived and as coarsely represented? Foote was 
even no mimic: he went out of himself, it is true, but 
M'ithout going into another man; he was excelled by Gar- 
rick even in this, which is considered as Foote's greatest 
excellence. Garrick, besides his exact imitation of the 
voice and gesture of his original, to a degree of refinement 
of which Foote had no conception, exhibited the mind and 
mode of thinking of the person imitated. Besides, 
Garrick confined his powers within the limits of decency; 
he had a character to preserve, Foote had none. By 
Foote's buffoonery and broad-faced merriment, private 
friendship, public decency, and everything estimable 



252 JOHNSONIANA. 

amongst men were trod under foot. We all know the differ- 
ence of their reception in the world. No man, however high 
in rank or literature, but was proud to know Garrick, and 
was glad to have him at his table; no man ever considered 
or treated Garrick as a player; he may be said to have 
stepped out of his own rank into a higher, and by raising 
himself, he raised the rank of his profession. At a con- 
vivial table his exhilarating powers were unrivalled, he 
was lively, entertaining, quick in discerning the ridicule of 
life, and as ready in representing it; and on graver subjects 
there were few topics in which he could not bear his part. 
It is injurious to the character of Garrick to be named in 
the same breath with Foote. That Foote was admitted 
sometimes into good company (to do the man what credit 
I can) I will allow, but then it was merely to play tricks: 
Foote's merriment was that of a buffoon, and Garrick's 
that of a gentleman. 

Gib. I have been told, on the contrary, that Garrick in 
company had not the easy manners of a gentleman. 

Johns. Sir, I don't know what you may have been 
told, or what your ideas may be, of the manners of a gen- 
tleman: Garrick had no vulgarity in his manners; it is true 
Garrick had not the airiness of a fop, nor did he assume an 
affected indifference to what was passing; he did not lounge 
from the table to the window, and from thence to the 
fire, or, whilst you were addressing your discourse to him, 
turn from you and talk to his next neighbour, or give any 
indication that he was tired of your company: if such man- 
ners form your ideas of a fine gentleman, Garrick certainly 
had them not. 

Gib. I mean that Garrick was more overawed by the 
presence of the great, and more obsequious to rank, than 
Foote, who considered himself as their equal, and treated 
them with the same familiarity as they treated each other. 

Johns. He did so, and what did the fellow get by it? 
The grossness of his mind prevented him from seeing that 
this familiarity was merely suffered as they Avould play 
with a dog; he got no ground by affecting to call peers by 
their surnames; the foolish fellow fancied that lowering 
them was raising himself to their level; this affectation of 
familiarity with the great, this childish ambition of moment- 
ary exaltation obtained by the neglect of those ceremonies 



SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 253 

which custom has established as the barriers between one 
order of society and another, only showed his folly and 
meanness; he did not see that by encroaching on others' 
dignity, he puts himself in their power either to be repelled 
with helpless indignity, or endured by clemency and con- 
descension. Garrick, by paying due respect to rank, re- 
spected himself; what he gave was returned, and what was 
returned he kept for ever; his advancement M^as on firm 
ground, he was recognised in public as well as respected 
in private, and as no man was ever more courted and better 
received by the public, so no man was ever less spoiled by 
its flattery; Garrick continued advancing to the last, till he 
had acquired every advantage that high birth or title could 
bestow, except the precedence of going into a room; but 
Avhen he was there, he was treated with as much attention 
as the first man at the table. It is to the credit of Garrick, 
that he never laid any claim to this distinction; it was as 
voluntarily allowed as if it had been his birthright. In 
this, I confess, I looked on David with some degree of 
envy, not so much for the respect he received, as for the 
manner of its being acquired; what fell into his lap un- 
sought, I have been forced to claim. I began the world by 
fighting my way. There was something about me that 
invited insult, or at least a disposition to neglect, and 1 was 
equally disposed to repel insult and to claim attention, and 
I fear continue too much in this disposition now it is no 
longer necessary; I receive at present as much favour as I 
have a right to expect. I am not one of the complainers 
of the neglect of merit. 

Gib. Four pretensions, Dr. Johnson, nobody will dis- 
pute; I cannot place Garrick on the same footing; your 
reputation will continue increasing after your death, when 
Garrick will be totally forgotten; you will be for ever con- 
sidered as a classic 

Johns. Enough, sir, enough; the company would be 
better pleased to see us quarrel than bandying compliments. 

Gib. But you must allow, Dr. Johnson, that Garrick 
was too much a slave to fame, or rather to the mean am- 
bition of living with the great, terribly afraid of making 
himself cheap even with them; by which he debarred him- 
self of much pleasant society. Employing so much atten- 
tion, and so much management upon such little things, im- 



354 JOHNSONIANA. 

plies, I think, a little mind. It was observed, by his friend 
Cohnan, that he never went into company but with a plot 
how to get out of it; he was every minute called out, and 
•went ofl' or returned as there was or was not a probability 
of his shining. 

Johns. In regard to his mean ambition, as you call it, 
of living with the great, what was the boast of Pope, and 
is every man's wish, can be no reproach to Garrick; he 
who says he despises it knows he lies. That Garrick 
husbanded his fimie, the fame which he had justly acquired 
both at the tlieatre and at the table, is not denied; but 
where is tlie blame, either in the one or in the other, of 
leaving as little as he could to chance? Besides, sir, con- 
sider what you have said; you first deny Garrick's i)reten- 
sions to fame, and then accuse him of too great an attention 
to preserve what he never possessed. 

Gib. I don't understand 

Johns. Sir, I can't help that. 

Gib. Well, but Dr. Johnson, you will not vindicate him 
in his over and above attention to his fame, his inordinate 
desire to exhibit himself to new men, like a coquette, ever 
seeking after new conquests, to the total negkxU of old 
friends and admirers: — 

" Ho threw ort'his friends like a limilsman his pack," 

always looking out for new game. 

Johns. When you quoted the line from Goldsmith, you 
ought, in fairness, to have given what followed: — 

" He knew when he pleased he could whisilc them back;" 

which implies, at least, that he possessed a power over 
other men's minds approaching to fascination; but con- 
sider, sir, what is to be done; liere is a man wliom every 
other man desired to know. Garrick could not receive 
and cultivate all, according to each man's conception of his 
own value: we are all apt enough to consider ourselves as 
possessing a right to be excepted from the common crowd; 
besides, sir, I do not see why tliat should be imputed to 
him as a crime, which we all so irresistibly feel and prac- 
tise: we all make a greater exertion of the presence of new 
men tlian old acquaintance; it is undoubtedly true that 
Garrick divided his attention among so many, that but 



SIR JOSntTA REYNOLDS. 255 

little was left to the share of any individual; like the ex- 
lension and dissipation of water into dew, there was not 
quantity united suiHciently to quench any man's thirst; but 
this is in the inevitable state of things: Garrick, no more 
than another man, could unite what, in their natures, are 
incompatible. 

Gib. But Garrick not only was excluded by this means 
from real friendship, but accused of treating those whom 
he called friends with insincerity and double dealings. 

Johns. Sir, it is not true; his character in that respect 
is misunderstood: Garrick was, to be sure, very ready in 
promising, but he intended at that time to fulfil his pro- 
mise; he intended no deceit: his politeness or his good- 
nature, call it which you will, made him unwilling to deny; 
he wanted the courage to say No, even to unreasonable 
demands. This was the great error of his life: by raising 
expectations which he did not, perhaps could not, gratify, 
he made many enemies; at the same time it must be 
remembered, that this error proceeded from the same 
cause which produced many of his virtues. Friendships 
from warmth of temper too suddenly taken up, and too 
violent to continue, ended as they were like to do, in dis- 
appointment; enmity succeeded disappointment; his friends 
became his enemies; and those having been fostered in his 
bosom, well knew his sensibility to reproach, and they 
took care that he should be amply supplied with such bit- 
ter potions as they were capable of administering; their 
impotent efforts he ought to have despised, but he felt 
them; nor did he affect insensibility. 

Gib. And that sensibility probably shortened his life. 

Johns. No, sir, he died of a disorder of which you or 
any other man may die, without being killed by too much 
sensibility. 

Gib. But you will allow, however, that this sensibility, 
those fine feelings, made him the great actor he was. 

Johns. This is all cant, fit only for kitchen wenches 
and chambermaids: Garrick's trade was to represent pas- 
sion, not to feel it. Ask Reynolds whether he felt the 
distress of Count Hugolino when he drew it. 

Gib. But surely he feels the passion at the moment he 
is representing it. 

Johns. About as much as Punch feels. That Garrick 



256 JOHNSONIANA. 

himself gave into this foppery of feelings I can easily 
believe; but he knevv^ at the same time that he lied. He 
might think it right, as far as I know, to have what fools 
imagined he ought to have; but it is amazing that any 
one should be so ignorant as to think that an actor will 
risk his reputation by depending on the feelings that shall 
be excited in the presence of two hundred people, on the 
repetition of certain words which he has repeated two 
hundred times before in what actors call their study. No, 
sir, Garrick left nothing to chance; every gesture, every 
expression of countenance, and variation of voice was set- 
tled in his closet before he set his foot upon the stage." (*) 

(*) [This is conformable Avith tlie opinion of Grimm and Diderot, 
and with the admission of Mr. Kemble; but it must not be under- 
stood too literally. A great actor prepares in his study, positions, 
attitudes, the particular mode of uttering certain passages, and 
even the tone which is to be adopted; and having once ascer- 
tained, both by thought and experience, what is best, he will 
naturally adhere to that, however often he may play the part; but 
it is equally certain, that there is a large portion of the merit of 
a great theatrical exhibition which is not reducible to any rule, 
and which depends, not only on the general powers of the per- 
former, but on his health, his spirits, and other personal circum- 
stances of the moment which may tend to encourage or restrain 
his powers. And it may be safely affirmed, that although no 
actor ever fancies himself Olhello, or any actress Calista, yet 
that the unpremeditated emotions last alluded to constitute a 
great part of the charm which distinguishes on the stage excel- 
lence from mediocrity.— C] 



257 



Part XVI. 

ANECDOTES AND REMARKS, 
BY MADAME D'ARBLAY. (*) 



412. Mr. Bewley. — Johnson's Hearth-Broom. 

In 1760, Mr. Burney found an opportunity of paying his 
personal respects to Dr. Johnson, who then resided in 
chambers in the Temple. While awaiting the appearance 
of his revered host, Mr. Burney recollected a supplication 
from Mr. Bewley, the philosopher of Massingham, to be 
indulged with some token, however trifling or common, 
of his friend's admission to the habitation of this great 
man. Vainly, however, Mr. Burney looked around the 
apartment for something that he might innoxiously purloin. 
Nothing but coarse and necessary furniture was in view; 
nothing portable — not even a wafer, the cover of a letter, 
or a split pen, was to be caught; till, at length, he had the 
happiness to espy an old hearth-broom in the chimney 
corner. From this, with hasty glee, he cut off a bristly 
wisp, which he hurried into his pocket-book; and after- 
wards formally folded in silver-paper, and forwarded, in 
a frank to Lord Orford, for Mr. Bewley; by w^hom the 
burlesque offering was hailed with good-humoured accla- 
mation, and preserved through life. 

(*) [Formerly, the celebrated Miss Fanny Burney, author of 
" Evelina," &c.; from whose interesting Memoirs of her father, 
Dr. Burney, these anecdotes are taken.] 
17 



258 JOHNSONIANA. 

413. Music. 

Dr. Johnson, who had no ear for music, had accustomed 
himself, like many other great writers who have had that 
same, and frequently sole, deficiency, to speak slightingly 
both of the art and of its^ professors: and it was not till 
after he had become intimately acquainted with Dr. Bnrney 
and his various merits, that he ceased to join in a jargon 
so unworthy of his liberal judgment, as that of excluding 
musicians and their art from celebrity. The first symptom 
that he showed of a tendency to conversion upon this sub- 
ject, was upon hearing the following paragraph read, acci- 
dentally, aloud by Mrs. Thrale, from the preface to the 
History of Music, while it was yet in manuscript: — " The 
love of lengthened tones and modulated sounds, seems a 
passion implanted in human nature throughout the globe; 
as we hear of no people, however wild and savage in other 
particulars, who have not music of some kind or other, 
with which they seem greatly delighted." — " Sir," cried 
Dr. Johnson, after a little pause, " this assertion I believe 
may be right." And then, seesawing a minute or two on 
his chair, he forcibly added, " All animated nature loves 
music — except myself!" 

Some time later, when Dr. Burney perceived that he was 
generally gaining ground in the house, he said to Mrs. 
Thrale, who had civilly been listening to some favourite air 
that he had been playing, " I have yet hopes, madam, with 
the assistance of my pupil, to see yours become a musical 
family. Nay, I even hope, sir," turning to Dr. Johnson, 
"I shall some time or other make you, also, sensible of 
the power of my art." " Sir," answered the Doctor, 
smiling, " I shall be very glad to have a new sense put into 
me!" 

414. Dr. Burney. 

The Tour to the Hebrides being then in hand. Dr. Bur- 
ney inquired of what size and form the book would be. 
" Sir," he replied, with a little bow, "you are my model!" 
Impelled by the same kindness, when my father lamented 
the disappointment of the public in Hawkesworth's Voy- 
ages, — " Sir," he cried, " the public is always disappointed 
in books of travels; except yours." And afterwards, he 



d'arblay. 259 

said, that he hardly ever read any book quite through in 
his life; but added, " Chamier and I, sir, however, read 
all your travels through; except, perhaps, the description 
of the great pipes in the organs of Germany and the 
Netherlands." 

415. Streatham Library. 

Mr. Thrale had lately fitted up a rational, readable, well- 
chosen library. It were superfluous to say, that he had 
neither authors for show, nor bindings for vanity, when 
it is known, that while it was forming, he placed merely 
one hundred pounds in Dr. Johnson's hands for its com- 
pletion; though such was his liberality, and such his 
opinion of the wisdom as well as knowledge of the Doctor 
in literary matters, that he would not for a moment have 
hesitated to subscribe to the highest estimate that the Doctor 
might have proposed. One hundred pounds, according to 
the expensive habits of the present day, of decorating 
books like courtiers and coxcombs, rather than like stu- 
dents and philosophers, would scarcely purchase a single 
row for a book-case of the length of Mr. Thrale's at 
Streatham; though, under such guidance as that of Dr. 
Johnson, to whom all finery seemed foppery, and all fop- 
pery futility, that sum, added to the books naturally 
inherited, or already collected, amply sufficed for the un- 
sophisticated reader, where no peculiar pursuit, or unlimited 
spirit of research, demanded a collection for reference ra- 
ther than for instruction and enjoyment. 

416. Streatham Gallery. 

This was no sooner accomplished, than Mr. Thrale 
resolved to surmount these treasures for the mind by a 
similar regale for the eyes, in selecting the persons he 
most loved to contemplate, from amongst his friends and 
favourites, to preside over the literature that stood highest 
in his estimation. And, that his portrait painter might go 
hand in hand in judgment with his collector of books, he 
fixed upon the matchless Sir Joshua Reynolds to add living 
excellence to dead perfection, by giving him the personal 
resemblance of the following elected set; every one of 
which occasionally made a part of the brilliant society of 
Streatham. Mrs. Thrale and her eldest daughter were in 



260 JOHNSONIANA. 

one piece, over the fire-place, at full length. The rest of 
the pictures were all three-quarters. Mr. Thrale was over 
the door leading to his study. The general collection then 
began by Lord Sandys and Lord Westcote, two early noble 
friends of Mr. Thrale. Then followed Dr. Johnson, Mr. 
Murphy, Mr. Burke, Mr. Garrick, Dr. Goldsmith, Mr. 
Baretti, Sir Robert Chambers, and Sir Joshua Reynolds 
himself. All painted in the highest style of the great 
master; who much delighted in this his Streatham gal- 
lery. There was place left but for one more frame, when 
the acquaintance with Dr. Burney began at Streatham; 
and the charm of his conversation and manners, joined to 
his celebrity in letters, so quickly Avon upon the master 
as well as the mistress of the mansion, that he was pre- 
sently selected for the honour of filling up this last chasm 
in the chain of Streatham worthies. To this flattering 
distinction, Avhich Dr. Burney always recognised with 
pleasure, the public owe the engraving of Bartolozzi, 
which is prefixed to the History of Music. 

417. Johnson's Kindness of Heart. 

The friendship and kindness of heart of Dr. Johnson 
were promptly brought into play by this renewed inter- 
course. Richard, the youngest son of Dr. Burney, born 
of the second marriage, was then preparing for Winchester 
School, whither his father purposed conveying him in per- 
son. This design was no sooner known at Sreatham, 
where Richard, at that time a beautiful as Avell as clever 
boy, was in great favour with Mrs. Thrale, than Dr. 
Johnson volunteered an offer to accompany the father to 
Winchester; that he might himself present the son to Dr. 
Warton, the then celebrated master of that ancient recep- 
tacle for the study of youth. Dr. Burney, enchanted by 
such a mark of regard, gratefully accepted the proposal; 
and they set out together for Winchester, where Dr. War- 
ton expected them with ardent hospitality. 

418. Dr. JVarton. 

Dr. Warton's reception of Dr. Johnson was rather rap- 
turous than glad. Dr. Warton was always called an enthu- 
siast by Dr. Johnson, who, at times, when in gay spirits, 
and with those with whom he trusted their ebullition, would 



d'arblay. 261 

take off Dr. Wartonwith the strongest humour; describing, 
ahnost convulsively, the ecstasy with which he would seize 
upon the person nearest to him, to hug in his arms, lest his 
grasp should be eluded, while he displayed some picture, 
or some prospect, and indicated, in the midst of contortions 
and gestures that violently and ludicrously shook, if they 
did not affright his captive, the particular point of view, or 
of design, that he wished should be noticed. 

419, Johnson's HumiUty. 

From Dr. Johnson's internal humility, it is possible that 
he was not himself aware of the great chasm that separated 
him from the herd of mankind, when not held to it by the 
ties of benevolence or of necessity. To talk of humility 
and Dr. Johnson together, may, perhaps, make the few 
who remember him smile, and the many who have only 
heard of him stare. But his humility was not that of think- 
ing more lowlily of himself than of others; it was simply 
that of thinking so lowlily of others, as to hold his own 
conscious superiority of but small scale in the balance of 
intrinsic excellence. 

420. Visit to Dr. Biirney. 

I shall now give in detail a narrative of the first appear- 
ance of Dr. Johnson at my father's residence in St. Martin's 
Lane, the iiouse of Sir Isaac Newton. Mrs. and Miss 
Thrale, Miss Owen, and Mr. Seward, came long before 
Lexiphanes. Mrs. Thrale is a pretty woman still, though 
she has some defect in the mouth that looks like a cut, or 
scar; but her nose is very handsome, her complexion very 
fair; she has the embonpoint charmant^ and her eyes are 
blue and lustrous. She is extremely lively and chatty; and 
showed none of the supercilious or pedantic airs, so freely, 
or, rather, so scoffingly attributed to women of learning or 
celebrity; on the contrary, she is full of sport, remarkably 
gay, and excessively agreeable. I liked her in everything 
except her entrance into the room, which was rather florid 
and flourishing, as who should say, "It's I! — no less a per- 
son than Mrs. Thrale!" 

The conversation was supported with a great deal of 
vivacity, as usual when il Signor Padrone is at home. 
This confab was broken up by a duet between your Het- 



262 JOHNSONIANA. 

tina and, for the first time to company-listeners, Suzette. In 
the midst of this performance, Dr. Johnson was announced. 
Everybody rose to do him honour; and he returned the 
attention with the most formal courtesy. My father then, 
having welcomed him with the warmest respect, whispered 
to him that music was going forward; which he would not, 
my father thinks, have found out; and placing him on the 
best seat vacant, told his daughters to go on with the duet; 
while Dr. Johnson, intently rolling towards them one eye, 
i— for they say he does not see with the other, — made a 
grave nod, and gave a dignified motion with one hand, in 
silent approvance of the proceeding. 

But now I am mortified to own, that he is, indeed, 
very ill-favoured. Yet he has naturally a noble figure; 
tall, stout, grand, and authoritative: but he stoops horribly, 
his back is quite round: his mouth is continually opening 
and shutting, as if he were chewing something; he has a 
singular method of twirling his fingers, and twisting his 
hands: his vast body is in constant agitation, see-sawing 
backwards and forwards: his feet are never a moment quiet; 
and his whole great person looked often as if it were going 
to roll itself, quite voluntarily, from his chair to the floor. 

His dress, considering the times, and that he had meant 
to put. on all his best becotnes, for he was engaged to dine 
with a very fine party at Mrs, Montagu's, was as much 
out of the common road as his figure. He had a large, 
full, bushy wig, a snufl^-colour coat, with gold buttons (or, 
peradventure, brass), but no ruffles to his doughty fists; 
and not, I suppose, to be taken for a Blue, though going 
to the Blue Queen, he had on very coarse black worsted 
stockings. 

He is shockingly near-sighted; a thousand times more 
so than either my Padre or myself. He did not even 
know Mrs. Thrale, till she held out her hand to him; 
which she did very engagingly. After the first few mi- 
nutes, he drew his chair close to the piano-forte, and then 
bent down his nose quite over the keys, to examine them, 
and the four hands at work upon them: till poor Hetty 
and Susan hardly knew how to play on, for fear of touch- 
ing his phiz; or, which was harder still, how to keep 
their countenances. When the duet was finished, my 
father introduced Hettina to him, as an old acquaintance, 



d'arblay. 263 

to whom, when she was a little girl, he had presented his 
Idler. His answer to this was imprinting on her pretty 
face — not a half touch of a courtly salute — but a good, 
real, substantial, and very loud kiss. Everybody was 
obliged to stroke their chins, that they might hide their 
mouths. 

Beyond this chaste embrace, his attention was not to be 
drawn ofl' two minutes longer from the books, to which he 
now strided his way. He pored over them, shelf by shelf, 
almost brushing them with his eye-lashes from near ex- 
amination. At last fixing upon something that happened 
to hit his fancy, he took it down, and, standing aloof from 
the company, which he seemed clean and clear to forget, 
he began, without further ceremony, and very composedly, 
to read to himself; and as intently as if he had been alone 
in his own study. We were all excessively provoked; for 
we were languishing, fretting, expiring to hear him talk 
—not to see him read! — what could that do for us? 

421. Garrick. 

They talked of Mr. Garrick, and his late exhibition 
before the King; to whom, and to the Queen and Royal 
Family, he has been reading Lethe in character; c^est 
a dire, in different voices, and theatrically. Mr. Seward 
gave an amusing account of a fable which Mr. Garrick 
had written by way of prologue, or introduction, upon this 
occasion. In this he says, that a blackbird, grown old and 
feeble, droops his wings, &c., and gives up singing; but, 
upon being called upon by the eagle, his voice recovers its 
powers, his spirits revive, he sets age at defiance, and 
sings better than ever. " There is not," said Dr. Johnson, 
" much of the spirit of fabulosity in this fable; for the call 
of an eagle never yet had much tendency to restore the 
warbling of a blackbird. 'Tis true, the fabulists fre- 
quently make the wolves converse with the lambs; but 
then, when the conversation is over, the lambs are always 
devoured: and in that manner, the eagle, to be sure, may 
entertain the blackbird; but the entertainment always ends 
in a feast for the eagle." 

"They say," cried Mrs. Thrale, "that Garrick was 
extremely hurt by the coldness of the King's applause; 
and that he did not find his reception such as he had 



264 JOHNSONIANA. 

expected." " He has been so long accustomed," said Mr. 
Seward, " to the thundering acclamation of a theatre, that 
mere calm approbation must necessarily be insipid, nay, 
dispiriting to him." 

" Sir," said Dr. Johnson, " he has no right, in a royal 
apartment, to expect the hallooing and clamour of the one- 
shilling gallery. The King, I doubt not, gave him as 
much applause as was rationally his due. And, indeed, 
great and uncommon as is the merit of Mr. Garrick, no 
man will be bold enough to assert that he has not had his 
just proportion both of fame and profit. He has long 
reigned the unequal favourite of the public; and there- 
fore nobody, we may venture to say, will mourn his hard 
lot, if the King and the Royal Family were not trans- 
ported into rapture upon hearing him read ' Lethe.' But 
yet, Mr. Garrick will complain to his friends; and his 
friends will lament the King's want of feeling and taste. 
But then, Mr. Garrick will kindly excuse the King. He 
will say that his Majesty might, perhaps, be thinking of 
something else! — that the affairs of America might, pos- 
sibly, occur to him — or some other subject of state, more 
important, perhaps, than ' Lethe.' But though he will 
candidly say this himself, he will not easily forgive his 
friends if they do not contradict him!" 

" Garrick," he said, " is accused of vanity; but few 
men would have borne such unremitting prosperity with 
greater, if with equal moderation. He is accused, too, of 
avarice, though he lives rather like a prince than an actor. 
But the frugality he practised when he first appeared in the 
world, has put a stamp upon his character ever since. And 
now, though his table, his equipage, and his establishment, 
are equal to those of persons of the most splendid rank, the 
original stain of avarice still blots his name. And yet, had 
not his early, and perhaps, necessary economy fixed upon 
him the charge of thrift, he would long since have been 
reproached Avith that of luxury." 

Another time he said of him, " Garrick never enters a 
room but he regards himself as the object of general at- 
tention, from whom the entertainment of the company is 
expected. And true it is, that he seldom disappoints that 
expectation; for he has infinite humour, a very just pro- 
portion of wit, and more convivial pleasantry than almost 



' d'arblay. 265 

any man living. But then off, as well as on the stage, 
he is always an actor; for he holds it so incumbent upon 
him to be sportive, that his gaiety, from being habitual, 
is become mechanical; and he can exert his spirits at all 
times alike, without any consultation of his disposition to 
hilarity." 

422. Streatham. — ''Evelina^ 

Dr. Johnson, however undesignedly, was the cause of 
the new author's invitation to Sli-ealham, from being the 
first person who there had pronounced the name of " Eve- 
lina;" and that previously to the discovery that its unknown 
writer was the daughter of a man whose early enthusiasm 
for Dr. Johnson had merited his warm acknowledgements. 
The curiosity of the Doctor, however, though certainly ex- 
cited, was by no means so powerful as to allure him from 
his chamber one moment before his customary time of 
descending to dinner; and the new author had three or four 
hours to pass in constantly augmenting trepidation: for the 
prospect of seeing him, which so short a time before would 
have sufficed for her delight, was now chequered by the 
consciousness that she could not, as heretofore, be in his 
presence only for her own gratification, without any reci- 
procity of notice. 

The morning was passed in the library, and to Doctor 
Burney and his daughter was passed deliciously; Mrs. 
Thrale, much amused by the presence of two persons so 
peculiarly situated, put forth her utmost powers of pleasing. 
" I wish you had been with us last night. Dr. Burney," 
she said; " for thinking of what would happen to-day, we 
could talk of nothing in the world but a certain sweet book; 
and Dr. Johnson was so full of it, that he quite astonished 
us. He has got those incomparable Brangtons quite by 
heart, and he recited scene after scene of their squabbles, 
and selfishness, and forwardness, till he quite shook his 
sides with laughter. But his greatest favourite is the Hol- 
born beau, as he calls Mr. Smith. Such a fine varnish, he 
says, of low politeness! such struggles to appear the fine 
gentleman! such a determination to be genteel! and above 
all, such profound devotion to the ladies — while openly 
declaring his distaste to matrimony! All this Mr. Johnson 
pointed out with so much comicality of sport, that, at last, 



266 JOHNSONIANA. 

he got into such high spirits, that he set about personating 
Mr. Smith himself. We all thought we must have died no 
other death than that of suffocation, in seeing Dr. Johnson 
handing about anything he could catch, or snatch at, and 
making smirking bows, saying he was all for the ladies, — 
everytJiirig that teas agreeable to the ladies, &c. &c., 
" except," says he, " going to church with them: and as to 
that, though marriage, to be sure, is all in all to the ladies, 
marriage to a man — is the devil!" And then he pursued 
his personifications of his Holborn beau, till he brought 
him to what Mr. Johnson calls his climax; which is his 
meeting with Sir Clement Willoughby at Madame Duval's, 
where a blow is given at once to his self-sufficiency, by the 
surprise and confusion of seeing himself so distanced; and 
the hopeless envy with which he looks up to Sir Clement, 
as to a meteor such as he himself had hitherto been looked 
up to at Snow Hill, that give a finishing touch to his 
portrait. And all Uiis comic humour of character, he 
says, owes its effect to contrast; for without Lord Orville, 
and Mr. Villars, and that melancholy and gentleman-like 
half-starved Scotchman, poor Macartney, the Brangtons, 
and the Duvals, would be less than nothing; for vulgarity, 
in its own unshadowed glare, is only disgusting." 

423. Introduction to Johnson. 

When at last we were summoned to dinner, Mrs. Thrale 
made my father and myself sit on each side of her. I said, 
I hoped I did not take the place of Dr. Johnson; for, to my 
great consternation, he did not even yet appear, and I began 
to apprehend he meant to abscond. " No," answered Mrs. 
Thrale; " he will sit next to you, — and that, I am sure, 
will give him great pleasure." 

Soon after Ave were all marshalled, the great man en- 
tered. Mrs. Thrale introduced me to him with an emphasis 
upon my name that rather frightened me, for it seemed 
like a call for some compliment. But he made me a bow 
the most formal, almost solemn, in utter silence, and with 
his ey^-s bent downwards. I felt relieved by this distance, 
for I thought he had forgotten, for the present at least, both 
the favoured little book and the invited little scribbler; and 
I therefore began to answer the perpetual addresses to me 
of Mrs. Thrale with rather more ease. But by the time 



d'arblay. 267 

I was thus recovered from my panic, Dr. Johnson asked 
my father what was the composition of some little pies on 
his side of the tahle; and, while my father was endeavouring 
to make it out, Mrs. Thrale said, " Nothing but mutton, 
Mr. Johnson, so I don't ask you to eat such poor patties, 
because I know you despise them." 

" No, madanii, no!" cried Dr. Johnson, " I despise no- 
thing that is good of its sort. But I am too proud now 
Qsmiling] to eat mutton pies. Sitting by Miss Burney 
makes me very proud to-day!" " Miss Burney," cried 
Mrs. Thrale, laughing, " you must take great care of your 
heart, if Mr. Johnson attacks it; for I assure you he is not 
often successless!" " What's that you say, madam?" cried 
the Doctor; "are you making mischief between the young 
lady and me already?" 

A little while afterwards, he drank Miss Thrale's health 
and mine together, in a bumper of lemonade; and then 
added, " It is a terrible thing that we cannot wish young 
ladies to be well, without wishing them to become old 
women!" " If the pleasures of longevity were not gra- 
dual," said my father, " if we were to light upon them by 
a jump or a skip, we should be cruelly at a loss how to 
give them welcome." " But some people," said Mr. 
Seward, "are young and old at the same time; for they 
wear so well, that they never look old." " No, sir, no!" 
cried the Doctor; " that never yet was, and never will be. 
You might as well say they were at the same time tall and 
short. Though I recollect an epitaph — I forget upon whom 
— to that purpose: — 

" Miss such a one — lies buried here, 
So early wise, and lasting fair. 
That none, unless her years you told, 
Thought her a child — or thought her old." 

My father then mentioned Mr. Garrick's epilogue to 
" Bonduca," which Dr. Johnson called a miserable per- 
formance; and which everybody agreed to be the worst 
that Mr. Garrick had ever written. " And yet," said Mr. 
Seward, " it has been very much admired. But it is in 
praise of English valour, and so, I suppose, the subject 
made it popular." " I do not know, sir," said Dr. John- 
son, " anything about the subject, for I could not read till 
I came to any. I got through about half a dozen lines; 



268 JOHNSONIANA. 

but for subject, I could observe no other tlian per- 
petual dulness. I do not know what is the matter with 
David. I am afraid he is becoming superannuated; for his 
prologues and epilogues used to be incomparable." 

" Nothing is so fatiguing," said Mrs. Thrale, "as the 
life of a wit. Garrick and Wilkes are the oldest men of 
their age that I know; for they have both worn themselves 
out prematurely by being eternally on the rack to entertain 
others." " David, madam," said the Doctor, " looks 
much older than he is, because his face has had double the 
business of any other man's. It is never at rest. When he 
speaks one minute, he has quite a different countenance to 
that which he assumes the next. I do not believe he ever 
kept the same look for half an hour together in the whole 
course of his life. And such a perpetual play of the 
muscles must certainly wear a man's face out before his 
time." 

While I was cordially laughing at this idea, the Doctor, 
who had probably observed in me some litde \measy trepi- 
dation, and now, I suppose, concluded me restored to my 
usual state, suddenly, though very ceremoniously, as if to 
begin some acquaintance with me, requested that I would 
help him to some brocoli. This I did; but when he took 
it, he put on a face of humorous discontent, and said, 
" Only this, madam? You would not have helped Mr. 
Macartney so parsimoniously!" 

He affected to utter this in a whisper; but to see him 
directly address me, caught the attention of all the table, 
and every one smiled, though in silence; while I felt so 
surprised and so foolish, so pleased and so ashamed, that I 
hardly knew whether he meant my Mr. Macartney, or 
spoke at random of some other. This, however, he soon 
put beyond all doubt, by very composedly adding, while 
contemptuously regarding my imputed parsimony on his 
plate: " Mr. Macartney, it is true, might have most claim 
to liberality, poor fellow! for how, as Tom Brangton 
shrewdly remarks, should he ever have known what a good 
dinner was, if he had never come to England?" Per- 
ceiving, I suppose — for it could not be very difficult to dis- 
cern — the commotion into which this explication put me; 
and the stiffed disposition to a contagious laugh, which was 
suppressed, not to add to my embarrassment; he quickly, 



d'arblay. 269 

hut quietly, went on to a general discourse upon Scotland, 
descriptive and political. 

From Scotland, the talk fell, but I cannot tell how, upon 
some friend of Dr. Johnson's, of whom I did not catch the 
name; so I will call him Mr. Three Stars, * * * ; of whom 
Mr. Seward related some burlesque anecdotes, from which 
Mr. * * * was warmly vindicated by the Doctor. " Bet- 
ter say no more, Mr. Seward," cried Mrs. Thrale, " for 
Mr. * * * is one of the persons that Mr. Johnson will suffer 
no one to abuse but himself. Garrick is another: for if 
any creature but himself says a Avord against Garrick, Mr. 
Johnson will brow-beat him in a moment." " Why, 
madam, as to David," answered the Doctor, very calmly, 
"it is only because they do not know when to abuse and 
when to praise him; and I will allow no man to speak any 
ill of David, that he does not deserve. As to * * * , — why 
really I believe him to be an honest man, too, at the bottom: 
but, to be sure, he is rather penurious; and he is some- 
what mean; and it must be owned he has some degree of 
brutality; and is not without a tendency to savageness, that 
cannot well be defended." 

We all laughed, as he could not help doing himself, at 
such a curious mode of taking up his friend's justification. 
And he then related a trait of another friend who had be- 
longed to some club(*) that the Doctor frequented, who, 
after the first or second night of his admission, desired, as 
he ate no supper, to be excused paying his share for the 
collation. " And was he excused, sir?" cried my father. 
" Yes, sir; and very readily. No man is angry with ano- 
ther for being inferior to himself. We all admitted his 
plea publicly — for the gratification of scorning him pri- 
vately! For my own part, I was fool enough to constantly 
pay my share for the wine, which I never tasted. But 
my poor friend Sir John, it cannot well be denied, was 
but an unclubable man." How delighted was I to hear 
this master of languages, this awful, this dreaded Lexi- 
phanes, thus sportively and gaily coin burlesque words in 
social comicality! 



(*) At the date of this letter, I knew not that the chib to which 
Dr. Johnson alluded was that which was denominated his own, — 
or The Literary Club. 



270 JOHNSONIANA. 

I don't know whether he deigned to watch me, but I 
caught a glance of his eye that seemed to show pleasure in 
perceiving my surprise and diversion; for with increased 
glee of manner he proceeded: — " This reminds me of a 
gentleman and lady with whom I once travelled. I sup- 
pose I must call them gentleman and lady, according to 
form, because they travelled in their own coach and four 
horses. But, at the first inn where we stopped to water 
the cattle, the lady called to a Avaiter for — a pint of ale! 
And, when it came, she would not taste it, till she had 
wrangled with the man for not bringing her fuller measure. 
Now, Madame Duval could not have done a grosser thing!" 

A sympathetic simper now ran from mouth to mouth, 
save to mine, and to that of Dr. Johnson; who gravely 
pretended to pass off what he had said as if it were a 
merely accidental reminiscence of some vulgar old acquaint- 
ance of his own. And this, as undoubtedly, and most 
kindly, he projected, prevented any sort of answer that 
might have made the book a subject of general discourse. 
And presently afterwards, he started some other topic, 
which he addressed chiefly to Mr. Thrale. But if you 
expect me to tell you what it was, you thnik far more 
grandly of my powers of attention without, when all within 
is in a whirl, than I deserve. 

Be it, however, what it might, the next time there was 
a pause, we all observed a sudden play of the muscles in 
the countenance of the Doctor, that showed him to be 
secretly enjoying some ludicrous idea: and accordingly, 
a minute or two after, he pursed up his mouth, and, in 
an assumed pert, yet feminine accent, while he tossed up 
his head to express wonder, he affectedly minced out, 
"La, Polly! — only think! Miss has danced with a lord!" 
This was resistless to the whole set, and a general, though 
a gentle laugh, became now infectious; in which, I must 
needs own to you, I could not, with all my embarrassment, 
and all my shame, and all my unwillingness to demonstrate 
my consciousness, help being caught — so indescribably 
ludicrous and unexpected was a mimicry of Miss Biddy 
Brangton from Dr. Johnson! The Doctor, however, with 
a refinement of delicacy of which I have the deepest sense, 
never once cast his eyes my way during these comic traits; 



d'arblay. 271 

though those of everybody else in the company had scarce- 
ly for a moment any other direction. 

But imagine my relief and my pleasure, in playfulness 
such as this from the great literary Leviathan, whom I 
had dreaded almost as much as I had honoured! How 
far was I from dreaming of such sportive condescension! 
He clearly wished to draw the little snail from her cell, 
and, when once she was out, not to frighten her back. He 
seems to understand my queeralities — as some one has 
called my not liking to be set up for a sign-post — with more 
leniency than anybody else." 

424. Lives of the Poets. 

While that charming work, " The Lives of the Poets," 
was in its progress, when only the Thrale family and its 
nearly ■ dopted guests, the two Burneys, were assembled, 
Dr. Johnson would frequently produce one of its proof 
sheets to embellish the breakfast table, which was always 
in the library; and was, certainly, the most sprightly and 
agreeable meeting of the day; for then, as no strangers 
were present to stimulate exertion, or provoke rivalry, argu- 
ment was not urged on by the mere spirit of victory; it 
was instigated only by such truisms as could best bring 
forth that conflict of pros and cons which elucidates oppos- 
ing opinions. Wit was not flashed with the keen sting of 
satire; yet it elicited not less gaiety from sparkling with an 
unwounding brilliancy, which brightened, without inflam- 
ing, every eye, and charmed, without tingling, every ear. 

These proof sheets Mrs. Thrale was permitted to read 
aloud; and the discussions to which they led were in the 
highest degree entertaining. Dr. Burney wistfully desired 
to possess one of them; but left to his daughter the risk 
of the petition. A hint, however, proved sufficient, and 
was imderstood not alone with compliance, but vivacity. 
Boswell, Dr. Johnson said, had engaged Frank Barber, his 
negro servant, to collect and preserve all the proof sheets; 
but though it had not been without the knowledge, it was 
without the order or the interference of their author: to 
the present solicitor, therefore, willingly and without scru- 
ple, he now offered an entire life; adding, with a benignant 
smile, " Choose your poet!" 

Without scruple, also, was the acceptance; and, with- 



272 JOHNSONIANA. 

out hesitation, the choice was Pope. And that not merely 
because, next to Shakspeare himself, Pope draws human 
characters the most veridically, perhaps, of any poetic 
delineator; but for yet another reason. Dr. Johnson com- 
posed with so ready an accuracy, that he sent his copy to 
the press unread; reserving all his corrections for the proof 
sheets: and, consequently, as not even Dr. Johnson could 
read twice without ameliorating some passages, his proof 
sheets were at times liberally marked with changes; and, 
as the Museum copy of Pope's Translation of the Iliad, 
from which Dr. Johnson has given many examples, con- 
tains abundant emendations by Pope, I secured at once, on 
the same page, the marginal alterations and second thoughts 
of that great author, and of his great biographer. 

When the book was published. Dr. Johnson brought to 
Streatham a complete set, handsomely bound, of the Works 
of the Poets, as well as his own Prefaces, to present to Mr. 
and Mrs. Thrale. And then, telling me that to the King, 
and to the chiefs of Streatham alone he could offer so large 
a tribute, he most kindly placed before me a bound copy of 
his own part of the work; in the title-page of which he 
gratified my earnest request by writing my name, and 
"From the Author." 

After which, at ray particular solicitation, he gave me 
a small engraving of his portrait from the picture of Sir 
Joshua Reynolds. And while, some time afterwards, I 
was examining it at a distant table. Dr. Johnson, in pass- 
ing across the room, stopped to discover by what I was 
occupied; which he no sooner discerned, than he began 
see-sawing for a moment or two in silence; and then, with 
a ludicrous half-laugh, peeping, over my shoulder, he called 
out: "Ah ha! — Sam Johnson! — I see thee! — and an ugly 
dog thou art!" 

He even extended his kindness to a remembrance of 
Mr. Bewley, the receiver and preserver of the wisp of a 
Bolt Court hearth-broom, as a relic of the Author of the 
Rambler; which anecdote Dr. Burney had ventured to 
confess; and Dr. Johnson now, with his compliments, sent 
a set of the Prefaces to St. Martin's Street, directed, "/br 
the Broom Gentleman:'''' which Mr. Bewley received with 
rapturous gratitude. 



D ARBLAY. 



273 



425. Boswell at full Length. 

When next Dr. Burney took me back to Streatham, he 
found there, recently arrived from Scotland, Mr. Boswell; 
whose sprightly Corsican tour, and heroic, almost Quixotic, 
pursuit of General Paoli, joined to the tour to the Hebrides 
with Dr. Johnson, made him an object himself of considera- 
ble attention. 

He spoke the Scotch accent strongly, though by no 
means so as to affect, even slightly, his intelligibility to an 
English ear. He had an old mock solemnity of tone and 
manner, that he had acquired imperceptibly from constantly 
thinking of and imitating Dr. Johnson, whose own solem- 
nity, nevertheless, far from mock, was the result of pensive 
rumination. There was, also, something slouching in the 
gait and dress of Mr. Boswell, that wore an air, ridiculously 
enough, of purporting to personify the same model. His 
clothes were always too large for him; his hair, or wig, 
was constantly in a state of negligence; and he never for a 
moment sat still or upright upon a chair. Every look and 
movement displayed either intentional or involuntary imi- 
tation. Yet certainly it was not meant as caricature; for 
his heart, almost even to idolatry, was in his reverence of 
Dr. Johnson. 

Dr. Burney was often surprised that this kind of farcical 
similitude escaped the notice of the Doctor; but attributed 
his missing it to a high superiority over any such suspicion, 
as much as to his near-sightedness; for fully was Dr. Bur- 
ney persuaded, that had any detection of such imitation 
taken place. Dr. Johnson, who generally treated Mr. Bos- 
well as a school-boy, whom, without the smallest ceremony, 
he pardoned or rebuked, alternately, would so indignantly 
have been provoked, as to have instantaneously inflicted 
upon him some mark of his displeasure. And equally he 
was persuaded that Mr, Boswell, however shocked and 
even inflamed in receiving it, would soon, from his deep 
veneration, have thought it justly incurred; and, after a day 
or two of pouting and sullenness, would have compromised 
the matter by one of his customary simple apologies, of 
" Pray, sir, forgive me!" 

Dr. Johnson, though often irritated by the oflScious im- 
portunity of Mr. Boswell, was really touched by his at- 
18 



274 JOHNSONIANA. 

tachment. It was indeed surprising, and even affecting, to 
remark the pleasure with which this great man accepted 
personal kindness, even from the simplest of mankind; and 
the grave formality with which he acknowledged it even 
to the meanest. Possibly it was what he most prized, be- 
cause what he could least command; for personal partiality 
hangs upon lighter and slighter qualities than those which 
earn solid approbation: but of this, if he had least com- 
mand, he had also least want; his towering superiority of 
intellect elevating him above all competitors, and regularly 
establishing him, wherever he appeared, as the first being 
of the society. 

As Mr. Boswell was at Streatham only upon a morning 
visit, a collation was ordered, to which all were assembled. 
Mr. Boswell was preparing to take a seat that he seemed, 
by prescription, to consider as his own, next to Dr. John- 
son; but Mr. Seward, who was present, waived his hand 
for Mr. Boswell to move further on, saying, with a smile, 
" Mr. Boswell, that seat is Miss Burney's." 

He stai'ed, amazed; the asserted claimant was new and 
unknown to him, and he appeared by no means pleased to 
resign his prior rights. But, after looking round for a 
minute or two, with an important air of demanding the 
meaning of this innovation, and receiving no satisfaction, 
he reluctantly, almost resentfully, got another chair, and 
placed it at the back of the shoulder of Dr. Johnson; while 
this new and unheard-of rival quietly seated herself as if 
not hearing what was passing; for she shrunk from the 
explanation that she feared might ensue, as she saw a smile 
stealing over every countenance, that of Dr. Johnson him- 
self not excepted, at the discomfiture and surprise of Mr. 
Boswell. 

Mr. Boswell, however, was so situated as not to remark 
it in the Doctor; and of every one else, when in that pre- 
sence, he was unobservant, if not contemptuous. In truth, 
when he met with Dr. Johnson, he commonly forbore even 
answering anything that was said, or attending to anything 
that went forward; lest he should miss the smallest sound 
from that voice to which he paid such exclusive, tliough 
merited, homage. But the moment that voice burst forth, 
the attention which it excited in Mr. Boswell amounted 
almost to pain. His eyes goggled with eagerness; he leant 



d'arblay. 275 

his ear almost on the shoulder of the Doctor; and his 
mouth dropped open to catch every syllable that might be 
uttered: nay, he seemed not only to dread losing a word, 
but to be anxious not to miss a breathing; as if hoping 
from it, latently, or mystically, some information. 

But when, in a few minutes. Dr. Johnson, whose eye 
did not follow him, and who had concluded him to be at 
the other end of the table, said something gaily and good- 
humouredly, by the appellation of Bozzy; and discovered, 
by the sound of the reply, that Bozzy had planted himself, 
as closely as he could, behind and between the elbows of 
the new usurper and his own, the Doctor turned angrily 
round upon him, and clapping his hand rather loudly upon 
his knee, said in a tone of displeasure, " What do you do 
there, sir? — Go to the table, sir!" 

Mr. Boswell instantly, and with an air of affright, obeyed: 
and there was something so unusual in such humble sub- 
mission to so imperious a command, that another smile 
gleamed its way across every mouth, except that of the 
Doctor and of Mr. Boswell; who now, very unwillingly, 
took a distant seat. 

But, ever restless when not at the side of Dr. Johnson, 
he presently recollected something that he wished to ex- 
hibit, and, hastily rising, was running away in its search; 
when the Doctor, calling after him, authoritatively said: 
" What are you thinking of, sir? Why do you get up 
before the cloth is removed? Come back to your place, 



sir!" 

Again, and with equal obsequiousness, Mr. Boswell did 
as he was bid; Avhen the Doctor, pursing his lips, not to 
betray rising risibility, muttered half to himself: " Running 
about in the middle of meals! One would take you for a 
Brangton! — " " A Brangton, sir?" repeated Mr. Boswell, 
with earnestness; " what is a Brangton, sir?" " Where 
have you lived, sir," cried the Doctor, laughing, " and 
what company have you kept, not to know that?" 

Mr. Boswell now, doubly curious, yet always appre- 
hensive of falling into some disgrace with Dr. Johnson, 
said, in a low tone, which he knew the Doctor could not 
hear, to Mrs, Thrale: " Pray, ma'am, what's a Brangton? — 
Do me the favour to tell me? — Is it some animal here- 
abouts?" Mrs. Thrale only heartily laughed, but without 



276 JOHNSONIANA. 

answering: as she saw one of her guests uneasily fearful of 
an explanation. But Mr. Seward cried, " I'll tell you, 
Boswell — rU tell you! — if you will walk with me into the 
paddock: only let us wait till the table is cleared; or I 
shall be taken for a Brangton, too!" They soon went off 
together, and Mr. Boswell, no doubt, was fully informed 
of the road that had led to the usurpation by which he had 
thus been annoyed. But the Brangton fabricator took care 
to mount to her chamber ere they returned; and did not 
come down till Mr. Boswell was gone. 

426. Dr. Johnson's last Illness. 

On Dr. Johnson's return from Lichfield, in November 
1784, my father hastened to Bolt Court, but had the grief 
to find his honoured friend much weakened, and in great 
pain; though cheerful, and struggling to revive. All of 
Dr. Burney's family, who had had the honour of admis- 
sion, hastened to him also; but chiefly his second daughter, 
who chiefly and peculiarly was always demanded. She was 
received with his wonted, his never-failing partiality; and, 
as well as the Doctor, repeated her visits by every oppor- 
tunity during the ensuing short three weeks of his earthly 
existence. She will here copy, from the diary she sent to 
Boulogne, an account of what, eventually, though unsus- 
pectedly, proved to be her last interview with this vene- 
rated friend: — 

Nov. 25, 1784. — Our dear father lent me the carnage 
this morning for Bolt Court. You will easily conceive 
how gladly I seized the opportunity for making a longer 
visit than usual to my revered Dr. Johnson, whose health, 
since his return from Lichfield, has been deplorably dete- 
riorated. He was alone, and I had a more satisfactory and 
entertaining conversation with him than I have had for 
many months past. He was in better spirits, too, than I 
have seen him, except upon our first meeting, since he 
came back to Bolt Court. He owned, nevertheless, that 
his nights were grievously restless and painful; and told me 
that he was going, by medical advice, to try what sleeping 
out of town might do for him. And then, with a smile, 
but a smile of more sadness than mirth! he added, " I 
remember that my wife, when she was near her end, poor 
woman! was also advised to sleep out of town: and when 



d'arblay. 277 

she was carried to the lodging that had been prepared for 
her, she complained that the staircase was in very bad con- 
dition; for the plaster was beaten off the walls in many 
places. ' Oh!' said the man of the house, ' that's nothing; 
it's only the knocks against it of the coffins of the poor 
souls that have died in the lodging.' " He forced a faint 
laugh at the man's brutal honesty; but it was a laugh of ill- 
disguised, though checked, secret anguish. 

I felt inexpressibly shocked, both by the perspective and 
retrospective view of this relation; but, desirous to confine 
my words to the literal story, I only exclaimed against 
the man's unfeeling absurdity in making so unnecessary a 
confession. " True!" he cried; " such a confession, to 
a person then mounting his stairs for the recovery of her 
health, or, rather, for the preservation of her life, con- 
tains, indeed, more absurdity than we can well lay our 
account to." 

We talked then of poor Mrs. Thrale, but only for a mo- 
ment; for I saw him so greatly moved, and with such 
severity of displeasure, that I hastened to start another 
subject; and he solemnly enjoined me to mention that no 
more. 

I gave him concisely the history of the Bristol milk- 
woman, who is at present zealously patronised by the bene- 
volent Hannah More. I expressed my surprise at the reports 
generally in circulation, that the first authors that the milk- 
woman read, if not the only ones, were Milton and Young. 
" I find it diffi,cult," I added, " to conceive how Milton 
and Young could be the first authors with any reader. 
Could a child understand them? And grown persons 
who have never read, are, in literature, children still." 

" Doubtless," he answered. " But there is nothing so 
little comprehended as what is genius. They give it to 
all, when it can be but a part. The milk-woman had 
surely begun with some ballad — " Chevy Chase," or the 
" Children in the Wood." Genius is, in fact, knoioing 
the nse of tools. But there must be tools, or how use 
them? A man who has spent all his life in this room, 
will give a very poor account of what is contained in the 
next." " Certainly, sir; and yet there is such a thing 
as invention? Shakspeare could never have seen a Ca- 
liban?" 



278 JOHNSONIANA. 

" No; but he had seen a man, and knew how to vary 
him to a monster. A person who would draw a monstrous 
cow, must know first what a cow is commonly; or how 
can he tell that to give her an ass's head, or an elephant's 
tusk, will make her monstrous? Suppose you show me a 
man who is a very expert carpenter, and that an admiring 
stander-by, looking at some of his works, exclaims: ' O! 
he Avas born a carpenter!' What would have become of 
that birthright if he had never seen any wood?" 

Presently, dwelling on this idea, he went on, " Let two 
men, one with genius, the other with none, look together 
at an overturned wagon; he who has no genius will think 
of the wagon only as he then sees it; that is to say, over- 
turned, and walk on: he who has genius will give it a 
glance of examination, that will paint it to his imagination 
such as it was previously to its being overturned, and when 
it Avas standing still, and when it Avas in motion, and Avhen 
it was heavy loaded, and when it Avas empty; but both 
alike must see the Avagon to think of it at all." 

The pleasure with Avhich I listened to his illustration 
noAV animated him on; and he talked upon this niilk- 
Avoman, and upon a once as famous shoemaker; and then 
mounted his spirits and his subject to our immortal Shak- 
speare; floAving and glowing on, with as much wit and 
truth of criticism and judgment, as ever yet I have heard 
him display; but, alack-a-day! my Susan, I have no power 
to give you the participation so justly your due. My paper 
is fillingr; and I haA^e no franks for doubling letters across 
the channel! But delightfully bright are his faculties, 
though the poor, infirm, shaken machine that contains them 
seems alarmingly giving way! And soon, exhilarated as 
he became by the pleasure of bestoAving pleasure, I saw 
a palpable increase of suffering in the midst of his sallies; 
I offered, therefore, to go into the next room, there to wait 
for the carriage; an offer Avhich, for the first time, he did 
not oppose; but taking, and most affectionately pressing, 
both my hands, " Be not," he said, in a voice of even 
melting kindness and concern, "be not longer in coming 
again for my letting you go now!" I eagerly assured him 
I Avould come the sooner, and Avas running off"; but he 
called me back, and in a solemn voice, and a manner the 
most energetic, said: " Remember me in your prayers!" 



d'arblay. 279 

HoAV affecting such an injunction from Dr. Johnson! 
It ahnost — as once before — made me tremble, from sur- 
prise and emotion — surprise he could so honour me, and 
emotion that he should think himself so ill. I longed to 
ask him so to remember me! but he was too serious for any 
parleying, and I knew him too well for offering any dis- 
qualitying speeches: I merely, in a low voice, and I am 
sure, a troubled accent, uttered an instant and heartfelt 
assurance of obedience; and then, very heavily indeed in 
spirits, I left him. 

From this meeting I felt redoubled anxiety, both for the 
health and the sight of this illustrious invalid. But all ac- 
counts thenceforward discouraged my return to him; his 
pains daily becoming greater, and his weakness more 
oppressive; added to which obstacles, he was now con- 
stantly attended by a group of male friends. I was soon 
afterwards engaged on a visit to Norbury Park; but im- 
mediately upon my return to town, presented myself, 
according to my willing promise, at Bolt Court. Frank 
Barber, the faithful negro, told me, with great sorrow, 
that his master was very bad indeed, though he did not 
keep his bed. The poor man would have shown me up 
stairs. This I declined, desiring only that he would let 
the Doctor know that I had called to pay my respects to 
him, but would by no means disturb him, if he were not 
well enough to see me without inconvenience. 

Mr. Strahan, the clergyman, was with him, Frank said, 
alone; and Mr. Strahan, in a feAV minutes, descended. 
Dr. Johnson, he told me, Avas very ill indeed, but much 
obliged to me for coming to him; and he had sent Mr. 
Strahan to thank me in his name; but to say that he was 
so very weak, that he hoped I would excuse his not seeing 
me. 

I was greatly disappointed; but, leaving a message of 
the most affectionate respect, acquiesced, and drove away; 
painfully certain how extremely ill, or how sorrowfully 
low he must be, to decline the sight of one whom so con- 
stantly, so partially, he had pressed, nay, adjured, " to come 
to him again and again." Fast, however, was approaching 
the time when he could so adjure me no more! From my 
firm conviction of his almost boundless kindness to me, I 
was fearful now to importune or distress him, and forebore, 



280 JOHNSONIANA. 

for the moment, repeating my visits; leaving in Dr. Bur- 
neys's hands all propositions for their renewal. 

On Friday, the 10th of December, Mr. Seward brought 
to my father the alarming intelligence from Frank Barber, 
that Dr. Warren had seen his master, and told him that he 
might take what opiirni he pleased for the alleviation of 
his pains. Dr. Johnson instantly understood, and im- 
pressively thanked him, and then gravely took a last leave 
of him; after which, with the utmost kindness, as well as 
composure, he formally bade adieu to all his physicians. 

Dr. Burney, in much affliction, hurried to Bolt Court; 
but the invalid seemed to be sleeping, and could not be 
spoken to till he should open his eyes. Mr. Strahan, the 
clergyman, gave, however, the welcome information, that 
the terror of death had now passed away; and that this 
excellent man no longer looked forward with dismay to 
his quick-approaching end; but, on the contrary, with what 
he himself called the irradiation of hope. 

This was, indeed, the greatest of consolations, at so 
awful a crisis, to his grieving friend; nevertheless. Dr. 
Burney was deeply depressed at the heavy and irreparable 
loss he was so soon to sustain; but he determined to make 
at least one more effort for a parting sight of his so long- 
honoured friend. And, on Saturday, the 11th December, 
to his unspeakable comfort, he arrived at Bolt Court just 
as the poor invalid Avas able to be visible; and he was im- 
mediately admitted. 

Dr. Burney found him seated on a great chair, propped 
up by pillows, and perfectly tranquil. He affectionately 
took my father's hand, and kindly inquired after his health, 
and that of his family; and then, as evermore Dr. Johnson 
was wont to do, he separately and very particularly named, 
and dwelt upon his second daughter; gently adding, " I 
hope Fanny did not take it amiss that I did not see her that 
morning? — I was very bad indeed!" Dr. Burney answered, 
that the word amiss could never be a propos to her, and 
least of all now, when he was so very ill. 

My father ventured to stay about half an hour, which 
was partly spent in quiet discourse, partly in calm silence; 
the invalid always perfectly placid in looks and manner. 
When he was retiring. Dr. Johnson again took his hand 
and encouraged him to call yet another time; and afterwards, 



d'arIblay. 281 

when again he was departing, Dr. Johnson impressively 
said, though in a low voice, " Tell Fanny to pray for me!" 
And then still holding, or grasping his hand, he made a 
prayer for himself, the most pious, humble, eloquent, and 
touching, Dr. Burney said, that mortal man could compose 
and utter. He concluded it with an ameni in which Dr. 
Burney fervently joined; and which was spontaneously 
echoed by all who were present. 

This over, he brightened up, as if with revived spirits, 
and opened cheerfully into some general conversation; and 
when Dr. Burney. yet a third time, was taking his reluc- 
tant leave, something of his old arch look played upon his 
countenance, as smilingly he said, " Tell Fanny, I think 
I shall yet throw the ball at her!" A kindness so lively, 
following an injunction so penetrating, reanimated a hope of 
my admission; and, after church, on the ensuing morning, 
Sunday, the 12th of December, with the fullest approbation 
of Dr. Burney, I repaired once more to Bolt Court. But 
grievously was I overset on hearing at the door, that the 
Doctor was worse, and could receive no one. I summoned 
Frank Barber, and told him I had understood, from my 
father, that Dr. Johnson had meant to see me. Frank 
then, but in silence, conducted me to the parlour. I beg- 
ged him merely to mention to the Doctor, that I had called 
with most earnest inquiries; but not to hint at any expecta- 
tion of seeing him till he should be better. 

Frank went up stairs; but did not return. A full hour 
was consumed in anxious waiting. I then saw Mr. Lang- 
ton pass the parlour door, which I watchfully kept open, 
and ascend the stairs. I had not courage to stop or speak 
to him, and another hovir lingered on in the same suspense. 

But, at about four o'clock, Mr. Langton made his ap- 
pearance in the parlour. I took it for granted he came ac- 
cidentally, but observed that, though he bowed he forbore 
to speak, or even to look at me, and seemed in much dis- 
turbance. Extremely alarmed, I durst not venture at any 
question; but Mrs. Davis, who was there, uneasily asked, 
" How is Dr. Johnson now, sir?" " Going on to death 
very fast!" was the mournful reply. Grievously shocked 
and overset by so hopeless a sentence, after an invitation 
so sprightly of only the preceding evening from the dying 
man himself, I turned to the window to recover from so 



282 JOHNSONIANA. 

painful a disappointment. " Has he taken anything, sir?" 
said Mrs. Davis. " Nothing at all! We carried him some 
bread and milk: he refused it, and said, ' The less the 
better!' " Mrs. Davis then asked sundry other questions, 
from the answers to which it fully appeared that his facul- 
ties were perfect, and that his mind was quite composed. 

This conversation lasted about a quarter of an hour, be- 
fore I had any suspicion that Mr. Langton had entered the 
parlour purposely to speak to me, and with a message from 
Dr. Johnson; but as soon as I could summon sufficient 
firmness to turn round, Mr. Langton solemnly said, " The 
Doctor is very sorry indeed not to see you; but he desired 
me to come and speak to you for him myself, and to tell 
you, that he hopes you will excuse him; for he feels him- 
self too weak for such an interview." Touched to the 
very heart by so kind, though so sorrowful a message, at 
a moment that seemed so awful, I hastily expressed some- 
thing like thanks to Mr. Langton, who was visibly affected; 
and, lea\4ng my most affectionate respects, with every 
warmly kind wish I could half utter, I hurried back to my 
father's coach. The very next day, Monday, the 13th of 
December, Dr. Johnson expired, and without a groan. 
Expired, it is thought, in his sleep. 



283 



Part XVII. 

ANECDOTES AND REMARKS, 
BY DR. BEATTIE. (*) 



427. Johnson's " Journey.''^ 

Johnson's " Journey to the Hebrides" contams many 
things worthy of the author, and is, on the whole, very 
entertaining. His account of the isles is, I dare say, 
very just: I never was there, and therefore can say no- 
thing of them, from my own knowledge. His account 
of some facts, relating to other parts of Scotland, are not 
unexceptionable. Either he must have been misinformed, 
or he must have misunderstood his informer, in regard to 
several of his remarks on the improvement of the country. 
I am surprised at one of his mistakes, which leads him 
once or twice into perplexity and false conjecture. He 
seems not to have known, that, in the common language 
of Scotland, Irish and Erse are both used to denote the 
speech of the Scots Highlanders; and are as much sy- 
nonymous (at least, in many parts of the kingdom) as 
Scotch and Scottish. Irish is generally thought the 
genteeler appellation; and Erse the vulgar and colloquial. 
His remarks on the trees of Scotland must greatly surprise 
a native. In some of our provinces trees cannot be reared 
by any mode of cultivation we have yet discovered; in 
some, where trees flourish extremely well, they are not 
much cultivated, because they are not necessary; but in 

(♦) [From Sir William Forbes's Life of Dr. Beattie.] 



284 JOHNSONIANA. 

Others, we have store of wood, and forests of great extent, 
and of great antiquity. I admire Johnson's genius; I esteem 
"him for his virtues; I sliall ever cherish a grateful remem- 
brance of the civihties I have received from him. I have 
often, in this country, exerted myself in defence both of his 
character and writings; but there are in this book several 
tilings which I cannot defend. 

428. Mr. and Mrs. Thrale. — Goldsmith. 

I was introduced to Mr. and Mrs. Thrale by Dr. John- 
son, and received many and great civilities from both. 
Mr. Thrale was a most respectable character; intelligent, 
modest, communicative, and friendly; and I greatly ad- 
mired his wife for her vivacity, learning, affability, and 
beauty. I thought her, indeed, one of the most agreeable 
women I ever saw; and could not have imagined her capa- 
ble of acting so unwise a part as she afterwards did. What 
she says of Goldsmith is perfectly true. He was a poor 
fretful creature, eaten up with affectation and envy. He 
was tlie only person I ever knew who acknowledged him- 
self to be envious. In Johnson's presence he was quiet 
enough; but in his absence expressed great uneasiness on 
hearing him praised. 

429. Mrs. Montagu. 

Johnson's harsh censure of Mrs. Montagu's Essay on 
Shakspeare does not surprise me; for I have heard him 
speak contemptuously of it. It is, for all that, one of the 
best, the most original, and most elegant pieces of criticism 
in our language, or in any other. Johnson had many of 
the talents of a critic; but his want of temper, his violent 
prejudices, and something, I am afraid, of an envious turn 
of mind, made him often an unfair one. Mrs. Montagu 
was very kind to him; but Mrs. Montagu has more wit 
than anybody; and Johnson could not bear that any 
person should be thought to have wit but himself. Even 
Lord Chesterfield, and, what is more strange, even Mr. 
Burke, he would not allow to have wit. He preferred 
Smollett to Fielding. He would not grant that Armstrong's 
poem of " Health," or the tragedy of " Douglas," had any 
merit. He told me, that he never read Milton through, till 
he was obliged to do it, in order to gather words for 



BEATTIE. 285 

his Dictionary. He spoke very peevishly of the " Masque 
of Comus;" and when I urged, that there was a great deal 
of exquisite poetry in it, "Yes," said he, "but it is like 
gold hid under a rock;" to which I made no reply; for in- 
deed I did not well understand it. 

430. Johnson in 1781. 

Johnson grows in grace as he grows in years. He not 
only has better health and a fresher complexion than ever 
he had before (at least since I knew him), but he has con- 
tracted a gentleness of manners which pleases everybody. 
Some ascribe this to the good company to which he has of 
late been more accustomed than in the early part of his 
life. There may be something in this; but I am apt to 
think the good health he has enjoyed for a long time is the 
chief cause. Mr. Thrale appointed him one of his execu- 
tors, and left him two hundred pounds: everybody says, 
he should have left him two hundred a year; whicli, from 
a fortune like his, would have been a very inconsiaerable 
reduction. 

431. Lives of the Poets. 

I have been reading Johnson's Prefaces to the English 
edition of the Poets. There are many excellent things in 
them, particularly in the Lives of Milton, Dryden, and 
Waller. He is more civil to Milton than I expected, 
though he hates him for his blank verse and his politics. 
To the forced and unnatural conceits of Cowley, I think 
he is too favourable; and I heartily wish, that, instead of 
the poems of this poet, he had given us " The Faerie 
Queen" of Spenser, which is left out very absurdly. 

432. Milton. 

Johnson hated Milton from his heart; and he wished to 
be himself considered as a good Latin poet; which, how- 
ever, he never was, as may be seen by his translation of 
Pope's " Messiah." 

433. BoswelVs ''Tour.'" 

I have just gone through Boswell's book. He is very 
good to me, as Dr. Johnson always was; and I am very 



286 JOHNSONIANA. 

grateful to both: but I cannot approve the plan of such a 
work. To publish a man's letters, or his conversation, 
without his consent, is not, in my opinion, quite fair; for 
how many things, in the hour of relaxation, or in friendly 
correspondence, does a man throw out, which he would 
never wish to hear of again; and what a restraint would it 
be on all social intercourse, if one were to suppose that 
every word one utters would be entered in a register! Mr. 
Boswell indeed says, that there are few men who need be 
under any apprehension of that sort. This is true; and 
tlie argximent he founds on it would be good, if he had 
published nothing but what Dr. Johnson and he said and 
did; for Johnson, it seems, knew that the publicaJ;ion 
Avould be made, and did not object to it: but Mr. Boswell 
has published the sayings and doings of other people, who 
never consented to any such thing; and who little thought, 
when they were doing their best to entertain and amuse 
the t\vo travellers, that a story would be made of it, and 
laid before the public. I approve of the Greek proverb 
that says, " I hate a bottle companion with a memory." 
If my friend, after eating a bit of mutton with me, should 
go to the coffee-house, and there give an account of every- 
thing that had passed, I believe I should not take it well. 



287 



Part XVIII. 

ANECDOTES AND REMARKS, 
BY THE RIGHT HON. WILLIAM WINDHAM. (*) 



[To the kindness of Thomas Amyot, Esq., F.R.S., the Editor is 
indebted for the following Memoranda, extracted from Mr. 
Windham's Diary of ihe Conversations he had with Dr. John- 
son during his visit at Ashbourne ; where he arrived on the 30th 
of August, 1784, " leaving it," as he states, " with regret, at half- 
past one on the 1st of September."] 



434. Homer. 

" The source of everything, either in or out of nature, 
that can serve the purpose of poetry, is to be found in 
Homer; — every species of distress, every modification of 
heroic character, battles, storms, ghosts, incantations, &c." 

435. Odyssey. 

" Dr. Johnson said, he had never read through the Odys- 
sey completely in the original." 

436. Johnson' s first Declamation. 
" Anecdote of his first declamation at College, that hav- 

(*■) [In a letter to Dr. Brocklesby, dated September 2, Dr. 
Johnson says — " Windham has been here to see me: he came, I 
think, forty miles out of his way, and stayed about a day and a 
half; perhaps I make the time shorter than it was. Such conver- 
sation I shall not have again till 1 come back to the regions of 
literature; and there Windham is inter stellas Luna minores."'\ 



288 JOHNSONIANA. 

ing neglected to write it till the morning of his being to 
repeat it, and having only one copy, he got part of it by 
heart, while he was walking into the Hall, and the rest he 
repeated as well as he could extempore." « 

437. The Bamei. 

" Anecdote of his tutor, who told them that the Ramei, 
the followers of Ramus, were so called from Ramus, a 
bow." 

438. Johnson's Idleness. 

" Description of himself as very idle and neglectful of 
his studies." 

439. Latin. 

" His opinion, that I could not name above five of my 
college acquaintance who read Latin with ease sufficient 
to make it pleasurable. The difficulties of the language 
overpower the desire of reading the author. 

" That he read Latin with as much ease when he went 
to college as at present." 

440. OvicVs Fasti. — TVotton. — Wood. 

" Recommended the reading the Fasti of Ovid, — also 
Wotton, and Wood on Homer." 

441. Death of Hercules. 

" Commended Ovid's description of the death of Her- 
cules — doubted whether Virgil would not have loaded the 
description with too many fine words." 

442. Styles. 

" Opinion that there were three M'ays in which writing 
might be unnatural; — by being bombastic and above nature 
— affected and beside it, fringing events with ornaments 
which nature did not afford — or weak and below nature. 
That neither of the first would please long. That the third 
might indeed please a good while, or at least please many; 
because imbecility, and consequently a love of imbecility, 
might be found in many." 



WINDHAM. 289 



443. A Good Work. 

" Baretti had fold him of some Italian author, who said 
that a good work must be that Avith which the vulgar were 
pleased, and of which the learned could tell why it pleased 
— that it must be able to employ the learned, and detain 
tlie idle. Chevy Chase pleased the vulgar, but did not 
satisfy the learned; it did not fill a mind capable of think- 
ing strongly. The merit of Shakspeare was such as the 
ignorant could take in, and the learned add nothing to." 

444. " Stat magni nominis,''^ S^'c. 

" Stat magni nominis umbra he would construe as 
umbra qux est magni nominis, i. e. cehbratay 

445. Rotve's Lucan. 

" Opinion of Rowe's translation of Lucan, that it would 
have been improved, if Rovve had had a couple of years to 
render it less paraphrastical." 

446. Virgil. 

" Vast change of the Latin language from the time of 
Virgil to Lucretius; — greater than known« in any other, 
even the French. The story of Dido is in Ovid's Fasti, 
also of Mezentius. Virgil's invention.* therefore is less 
than supposed. ' Take from his what is1n Homer, what 
do you leave him?' " 

, 447. Latin. 

" The pretensions of the English to the reputation of 
writing Latin is founded not so much on the specimens in 
that way which they have produced, as on the quantity of 
talent diffused through the country." 

448. Erasmus. 

" Erasmus appears to be totally ignorant of science and 
natural knowledge. But one Italian writer is mentioned 
in Erasmus; whence Johnson conjectured that he did not 
understand Italian," 
19 



290 JOHNSONIANA. 

449. Turnpike Roads. 

" Opinion about the effect of turnpike roads. Every 
place communicating with each other. Before, there 
were cheap places and dear places. Now, all refuges are 
destroyed for elegant or genteel poverty. Want of such 
a last hope to support men in their struggle through life, 
however seldom it might be resorted to. Disunion of 
families by furnishing a market to each man's abilities, 
and destroying the dependence of one man on another." 

[The following interesting Account of Mr. Windham's 
Conversations with Dr. Johnson, a few days before his 
Death, is extracted from the same Journal.^ 

450. Johnson's last Illness and Death. 

Tuesday, December 7, 1784. — Ten minutes past 2, 
p. M. — After waiting some short time in the adjoining 
room, I was admitted to Dr. Johnson in his bed-chamber, 
where, after placing me next him in the chair (he sitting 
in his usual place, on the east side of the room, and I on 
his right hand), he put into my hands two small volumes 
(an edition of the New Testament, as he afterwards told 
me), saying, " Extremum hoc munus morientis habeto." 

He then proceeded to observe that I was entering upon 
a life which would lead me deeply into all the business of 
the world: that he did not condemn civil employment, but 
that it was a state of great danger; and that he had there- 
fore one piece of advice earnestly to impress upon me, 
that I would set apart every seventh day fSi- the care of 
my soul. That one day, the seventh, should be em- 
ployed in repenting what was amiss in the six preceding, 
and fortifying my virtue for the six to come. That such 
a portion of time was surely little enough for the meditation 
of eternity. 

He then told me that he had a request to make to me; 
namely, that I would allow his servant Frank to look up 
to me as his friend, adviser, and protector, in all diffi- 
culties which his own weakness and imprudence, or the 
force or fraud of others, might bring him into. He said 
that he had left him what he considered an ample pro- 
vision, viz. seventy pounds per annum; but that even that 



WINDHAM. 291 

sum might not place him above the want of a protector, 
and to me, therefore, he recommended him as to one who 
had will, and power, and activity to protect him. Having 
obtained my assent to thiS, he proposed that Frank should 
be called in; and desiring me to take him by the hand in 
token of the promise, repeated before him the recommen- 
dation he had just made of him, and the promise I had 
given to attend to it. 

I then took occasion to say how much I felt — what I 
had long foreseen that I should feel — regret at having spent 
so little of my life in his company. I stated this as an 
instance where resolutions are deferred till the occasions 
are past. For some time past I had determined that such 
an occasion of self-reproach should not subsist, and had 
built upon the hope of passing in his society the chief part 
of my time, at the moment when it was to be apprehended 
we were about to lose him for ever. 

I had no difficulty in speaking to him thus of my appre- 
hensions. I could not help, on the other hand, entertain- 
ing hopes, but with these I did not like to trouble him, lest 
he should conceive that I thought it necessary to flatter 
him: he answered hastily, that he was sure I would not; 
and proceeded to make a compliment to the manliness of 
my mind, which, whether deserved or not, ought to be re- 
membered, that it may be deserved. 

I then stated, that among other neglects was the omission 
of introducing of all topics the most important, the conse- 
quence of which particularly filled my mind at that mo- 
ment, and in which I had often been desirous to know his 
opinions; the subjects I meant were, I said, natural and 
revealed religion. The wish thus generally stated, was in 
part gratified on the instant. For revealed religion, he 
said, there was such historical evidence, as, upon any sub- 
ject not religious, would have left no doubt. Had the 
facts recorded in the New Testament been mere civil oc- 
currences, no one would have called in question the testi- 
mony by which they are established; but the importance 
annexed to them, amounting to nothing less than the sal- 
vation of mankind, raised a cloud in our minds, and created 
doubts unknown upon any other subject. Of proofs to be 
derived from history, one of the most cogent, he seemed to 
think, was the opinion so well authenticated, and so long 



292 JOHNSONIANA. 

entertained, of a deliverer that was to appear about that 
time. Among the typical representations, the sacritice of 
the Paschal Lamb, in which no bone was to be broken, 
had early struck his mind. Foi> the immediate life and 
miracles of Christ, such attestation as that of the apostles, 
who all, except St. John, confirmed their testimony with 
their blood — such belief as these witnesses procured from 
a people best furnished with the means of judging, and 
least disposed to judge favourably — such an extension after- 
wards of that belief over all the nations of the earth, though 
originating from a nation of all others most despised, would 
leave no doubt that the things witnessed were true, and 
were of a nature more than human. With respect to evi- 
dence. Dr. Johnson observed, that we had not such evi- 
dence that Ca?sar died in the Capitol, as that Christ died 
in the manner related. 

December 11. — Went with Sir Joshua, whom I took up 
by the way, to see Dr. Johnson. Strahan and Langton 
there. No hopes; though a great discharge had taken 
place from the legs. 

December 12. — At about half-past seven p. m. went to 
Dr. Johnson's, where I stayed, chiefly in the outer room 
till past eleven. Strahan there during the whole time; dur- 
ing part Mr. Hoole; and latterly Mr. Cruikshanks and 
the apothecary. I only went in twice, for a few minutes 
each time: the first time I hinted only what they had be- 
fore been urging; namely, that he would be prevailed upon 
to take some sustenance, and desisted upon his exclaiming, 
" 'Tis all very childish; let us hear no more of it." The 
second time I came in, in consequence of a consultation 
with Mr. Cruikshanks and the apothecary, and addressed 
him formally, after premising that 1 considered what I was 
going to say as matter of duty; I said that I hoped he 
would not suspect me of the weakness of importuning him 
to take nourishment for the purpose of prolonging his life 
for a few hours or days. I then stated what the reason 
was. It was to secure that which I was persuaded he was 
most anxious about; namely, that he might preserve his 
faculties entire to the last moment. Before I had quite 
stated my meaning, he interrupted me by saying, that he 
had refused no sustenance but inebriating sustenance; and 
proceeded to give instances where, in compliance with the 



WINDHAM. 293 

wishes of his physician, he had taken even a small quan- 
tity of wine. I readily assented to any objections he 
might have to nourishment of that kind; and observing 
that milk was the only nourishment I intended, flattered 
myself that I had succeeded in my endeavours, when he 
recurred to his general refusal, and " begged that there 
might be an end of it." I then said, that I hoped he would 
forgive my earnestness, or something to that effect, when 
he replied eagerly, that from me nothing could be neces- 
sary by way of apology; adding, with great fervour, in 
words which I shall, I hope, never forget, "God bless you, 
ray dear AVindham, through Jesus Christ;" and concluding 
with a wish " that we might [share] in some humble por- 
tion of that happiness which God might finally vouchsafe 
to repentant sinners." These were the last words I ever 
heard him speak. I hurried out of the room with tears in 
my eyes, and more affected than I had been on any former 
occasion. 

December 13. — In the morning meant to have met Mr. 
Cruikshanks in Bolt Court; but while I was deliberating 
about going, was sent for by Mr. Burke. Went to Bolt 
Court about half-past three, found that Dr. Johnson had 
been almost constantly asleep since nine in the morning, 
and heard from Mr. Desmoulins what passed in the night. 
He had compelled Frank to give him a lancet, and had be- 
sides concealed in the bed a pair of scissors, and with one 
or the other of them had scarified himself in three places, 
two of them in the leg. On Mr. Desmoulins making a 
difficulty in giving him the lancet, he said, " Don't, if you 
have any scruple; but I will compel Frank:" and on Mr. 
Desmoulins attempting afterwards to prevent Frank from 
giving it to him, and at last to restrain his hand, he grew 
very outrageous, so as to call Frank scoundrel, and to 
threaten Mr. Desmoulins that he would stab him;(*) he 

(*) [See ante, p. 158. The reader will judge whether Boswell's 
or Hawkins's account of this transaciion is the juster; but that more 
importance may not be fjiven to it than it deserves, it must be re- 
collected, that Johnson fancied that his attendants were treating 
him with a timid leniency, merely to spare him pain, — a notion 
which irritated, at once, his love of life, his animal courage, and 
his high moral principle. We have already .seen {ante. No. 235,) 
that when in health he had said, '' Whoever is afraid of anything 



294 JOHNSONIANA. 

then made the three incisions above mentioned, two of which 
were not unskilfully made; but one of those in the leg was 
a deep and ugly wound, from Avhich they suppose him to 
have lost at least eight ounces of blood. 

Upon Dr. Heberden expressing his fears about the scari- 
fication, Dr. Johnson told him he was timidorum timidis- 
shnus. A few days before his death, talking with Dr. 
Brocklesby, he said, " Now will you ascribe my death to 
my having taken eight grains of squills, when you recom- 
mended only three. Dr. Heberden, to my having opened 
my left foot, when nature was pointing out the discharge 
in the right." The conversation was introduced by his 
quoting some lines, to the same purpose, from Swift's 
verses on his own death. (*) 

It was within the same period, if I understood Dr. 
Brocklesby right, that he enjoined him, as an honest man 
and a physician, to inform him how long he thought he 
had to live. Dr. Brocklesby inquired, in return, whether 
he had firmness to bear the answer. Upon his replying 
that he had, and Dr. Brocklesby limiting the time to a few 
weeks, he said, " that he then would trouble himself no 
more with medicine or medical advice:" and to this resolu- 
tion he pretty much adhered. 

In a conversation about what was practicable in medicine 
or surgery, he quoted, to the surprise of his physicians, the 
opinion of Marchetti for an operation of extracting (I think) 
part of the kidney. He recommended for an account of 
China, Sir John Mandeville's Travels. Holyday's Notes 

is a scoundrel;" and now, in the same feeling, and the same 
words, he censures llie cowardly, as he thought them, apprehen- 
sions of his attendants. It might be wished that in such circum- 
stances he had spoken and acted with less impatience; but let us 
not forget the excuses which may be drawn from the natural in- 
firmity of his temper, exasperated by the peevishness of a long 
and painful disease.— C] 

(») [" The doctors, tender of their fame. 

Wisely on one lay ail the blame: 

' We must confess his case was nice, 

But he would never lake advice; 

Had he been ruled, for aught appears, 

He might have lived these twenty years; 

For when we open'd him, M'e found 

That all his vital parts were sound.'"] 



WINDHAM. S95 

on Juvenal he thought so highly of as to have employed 
himself for some time in translating them into Latin. 

He insisted on the doctrine of an expiatory sacrifice as 
the condition without which there was no Christianity; and 
urged in support the belief entertained in all ages, and by 
all nations, barbarous as well as polite. He recommended 
to Dr. Brocklesby also, Clarke's Sermons, and repeated to 
him the passage which he had spoken of to me. 

While airing one day with Dr. Brocklesby, in passing 
and returning by St. Pancras church, he fell into prayer, 
and mentioned, upon Dr. Brocklesby's inquiring why 
the Catholics chose that for their burying place, that 
some Catholics in Queen Elizabeth's time, had been burnt 
there (*). Upon Dr. Brocklesby's asking him whether he 
did not feel the warmth of the sun, he quoted from Juvenal— 

"Praeterea minimus gelidojam in corpore sanguis 
Febre calet sola,." (t) 

December 13. — Forty-five minutes past ten, p. M.— 
While writing the preceding articles — I received the fatal 
account, so long dreaded, that Dr. Johnson was no more! 

May those prayers which he incessantly poured from a 
heart fraught with the deepest devotion, find their accept- 
ance with Him to whom they were addressed; which piety, 
so humble and so fervent, may seem to promise! 

(*) [The reader will be aware that other causes have been as- 
signed for this preference; but I learn, from unquestionable autho- 
rity, that it rests upon no foundation, and that mere prejudice 
exists among the Roman Catholics in favour of this church, as is 
the case with respect to other places of burial in various parts of 
the kingdom. — Markland.] 

(t) [■' Add that a fever only warms his veins, 

And thaws the little blood that yet remains."— Gifford.J 



296 JOHNSONIANA. 



Part XIX. 

ANECDOTES AND REMARKS, 
BY HANNAH MORE.(*) 



451. Introduction to Johnson. 

Hannah More visited London in 1773 or 1774, in com- 
pany with two of her sisters. The desire she had long 
felt to see Dr. Johnson was speedily gratified. Her first 
introduction to him took place at the house of Sir Joshua 
Reynolds, who prepared her, as he handed her up stairs, 
for the possibility of his being in one of his moods of sad- 
ness and silence. She was surprised at his coming to meet 
her as she entered the room, with good humour in his coun- 
tenance, and a macaw of Sir Joshua's on his hand; and 
still more at his assisting her with a verse from a Morning 
Hymn, which she had written at the desire of Sir James 
Stonehouse. In the same pleasant humour he continued 
the whole of the evening. 

452. Visit to Bolt Court. 

The most amiable and obliging of women. Miss Rey- 
nolds, ordered the coach to take us to Dr. Johnson's. The 
conversation turned upon a new work of his, just going to 
the press (the Journey to the Hebrides), and his old friend 
Richardson. Mrs. Williams, the blind poet, who lives 
with him, was introduced to us. She is engaging in her 

(♦) From the very interesting Memoirs of the Life and Corre- 
spondence of Mrs. Hannah More, by William Roberts, Esq. 



HANNAH MORE. 297 

manners; her conversation lively and entertaining. Not 
finding Johnson in his little parlour Avhen we came in, 
Hannah seated herself in his great chair, hoping to catch a 
little ray of his genius: when he heard it he laughed 
heartily, and told her it was a chair in which he never sat. 
He said it reminded him of Boswell and himself when they 
stopped a night at the spot (as they imagined) where the 
Weird sisters appeared to Macbeth: the idea so worked 
upon their enthusiasm, that it quite deprived them of rest; 
however, they learned, the next morning, to their mortifi- 
cation, that they had been deceived, and were quite in an- 
other part of the country. 

453. " Sir Eldred of the Bower:' — " The Bleeding 
Rockr 

Johnson, full of wisdom and piety, was this evening very 
communicative. To enjoy Dr. Johnson perfectly, one 
must have him to one's self, as he seldom cares to speak 
in mixed parties. Our tea was not over till nine; we then 
fell upon " Sir Eldred:" he read both poems through, sug- 
gested some little alterations in the first, and did me the 
honour to write one whole stanza; (*) but in the " Rock," 
he has not altered a word. Though only a tea visit, he 
stayed with us till twelve. 

454. Garrick and Johnson. 

My petite assemhUe came at seven. The dramatis 
personae were Mrs. Boscawen, Mrs. Garrick, and Miss 
Reynolds; my beaux were Dr. Johnson, Dean Tucker, 
and last, but not least in our love, David Garrick. You 
know that wherever Johnson is, the confinement to the tea- 
table is rather a durable situation. However, my ears 
were open, though my tongue was locked, and they all 
stayed till near eleven. Garrick was the very soul of the 
company, and I never saw Johnson in such perfect good- 
humour. We have often heard that one can never properly 
enjoy the company of these two unless they are together. 
There is great truth in this remark; for after the Dean and 
Mrs. Boscawen (who were the only strangers) were gone, 
Johnson and Garrick began a close encounter, telling old 

(*) [The stanza beginning, " My scorn has oft, &c."] 



298 JOHNSONIANA. 

Stories, " e'en from their boyish days," at Lichfield. We 
all stood round them above an hour, laughing in defiance 
of every rule of Chesterfield. I believe we should not have 
thought of sitting down or of parting, had not an imperti- 
nent watchman been saucily vociferous. 

455. Dean Tucker. 

I asked Dr. Johnson what he thought of the Dean of 
Gloucester. His answer was verbatiin as follows: " I look 
upon the Dean of Gloucester to be one of the most excellent 
writers of this period, I differ from him in opinion, and 
have expressed that difference in my writings; but I hope 
what I wrote did not indicate what I did not feel, for I felt 
no acrimony. No person, however learned, can read his 
writings without improvement. He is sure to find some- 
thing he did not know before." I told him the Dean did 
not value himself on elegance of style. He said, " he 
knew nobody whose style was more perspicuous, manly, 
and vigorous, or better suited to his subject." I was not 
a little pleased with this tribute to the worthy Dean's merit, 
from such a judge of merit; that man, too, professedly dif- 
fering from him in opinion. 

456. " JldventurerJ''' — De Lolme. 

Keeping bad company leads to all other bad things. I 
have got the headache to-day, by raking out so late with 
that gay libertine, Johnson. Do you know — I did not — 
that he wrote a quarter of the "Adventurer?" I made him 
tell me all that he wrote in the " Fugitive Pieces." De 
Lolme(*) told me, that he thought Johnson's late political 
pamphlets were the best things he had written. 

457. The Puritans. — Richard Baxter. 

Dr. Johnson never opens his mouth but one learns some- 
thing; one is sure either of hearing a new idea, or an old 
one expressed in an original manner. He scolded me 
heartily, as usual, when I differed from him in opinion, 
and, as usual, laughed when I flattered (t) him. I was 

(*) [A native of Geneva, and author of "The Constitntion of 
England;" of whirl) the first English edition appeared in 1775.] 

(t) [On the subject of Miss More's flattery of" Johnson, see' ante, 
No. 81.] 



HANNAH MORE. 299 

very bold in combating some of his darling prejudices; 
nay, I ventured to defend one or two of the Puritans, whom 
I forced him to allow to be good men, and good writers. 
He said he was not angry with me at all for liking Baxter. 
He liked him himself; " but then," said he, " Baxter was 
bred up in the establishment, and would have died in it, if 
he could have got the living of Kidderminster. He was a 
very good man." Dr. Johnson was wrong; for Baxter 
was offered a bishopric after the Restoration. 

458. " Tom Jones.'''' — '^^ Joseph Andrews^ 

I never saw Johnson really angry with me but once, 
and his displeasure did him so much honour, that I loved 
him the better for it. I alluded, rather flippantly, I fear, 
to some witty passage in " Tom Jones:" he replied, " I 
am shocked to hear you quote from so vicious a book. I 
am sorry to hear you have read it: a confession which 
no modest lady should ever make. I scarcely know a 
more corrupt work." I thanked him for his correction; 
assured him that I thought full as ill of it now, as he did, 
and had only read it at an age when I was more subject 
to be caught by the wit, than able to discern the mischief. 
Of " Joseph Andrews" I declared my decided abhorrence. 
He went so far as to refuse to Fielding the great talents 
which are ascribed to him; and broke out into a noble 
panegyric on his competitor, Richardson; who, he said, 
was as superior to him in talents as in virtue; and whom 
he pronounced to be the greatest genius that had shed its 
lustre on this path of literature. 

459. " Too many Irons in the Fire." 

Mrs. Brooke (*) having repeatedly desired Johnson to 
look over her new play of " The Siege of Sinope" before 
it was acted, he always found means to evade it; at last 
she pressed him so closely that he actually refused to do 
it, and told her that she herself, by carefully looking it 
over, would be able to see if there was anything amiss as 

(*) [The author of "Julia Mandeville," and "Emily Mon- 
tagu," and also of the favouriie comic opera of '" Rosina." The 
"Siege of Sinope" was brought out at Covent Garden in 1781, 
but was only performed ten nights.] 



300 JOHNSONIANA. 

well as he could. " But, sir," said she, " I have no time, 
I have already so many irons in the fire." " Why then, 
madam," said he, quite out of patience, "the hest thing I 
can advise you to do is, to put your tragedy along with 
your irons." 

460. Lord Lyttdton. — Mrs. Montagu. — Mr. Pepys. 

Think of Johnson's having apartments in Grosvenor 
Square. But he says it is not half so convenient as Bolt 
Court! He has just finished the Poets: Pope is the last. 
I am sorry he has lost so much credit by Lord Lyttelton's: 
he treats him almost with contempt; makes him out a poor 
writer, and an envious man; speaks well only of his 
" Conversion of St. Paul," of which he says, " it is suffi- 
cient to say it has never been answered." Mrs. Montagu 
and Mr. Pepys, his lordship's two chief surviving friends, 
are very angry. (*) 

461. Garrick. 

On Wednesday, Johnson came to see us, and made us 
a long visit. On Mrs. Garrick's telling him, she was 
always more at her ease with persons who had suffered 
the same loss with herself, lie said tliat was a comfort she 
could seldom have, considering the superiority of her hus- 
band's merit, and the cordiality of their union. He bore 
his strong testimony to the liberality of Garrick. (1781.) 

462. "■Pensees de PascaV 

He reproved me with pretended sharpness for reading 
" Les Pensees de Pascal," or any of the Port Royal 
authors; alleging that, as a good Protestant, I ought to 
abstain from books written by Catholics. I was beginning 
to stand upon my defence, when he took me with both 
hands, and with a tear running down his cheeks, " Child," 
said he, with the most affecting earnestness, "I am 
heartily glad that you read pious books by whomsoever 
they may be written." 

463. Milton. 
On Monday, Johnson was in full song, and I quarrelled 

(*) [See anle, No. 64, and post, No. G30.] 



HANNAH MORE. 301 

with him sadly. I accused him of not having done justice 
to the " Allegro" and " Penseroso." He spoke dispar- 
agingly of both. I praised " Lycidas," Avhich he absolutely 
abused, adding, " If Milton had not written the ' Paradise 
Lost,' he would only have ranked among the minor poets: 
he was a Phidias that cut a Colossus out of a rock, but 
could not cut heads out of cherry-stones."' 

464. Boswell and Garrick. 

Boswell brought to my mind the Avhole of a very 
mirthful conversation at dear Mrs. Garrick's; and my 
being made, by Sir William Forbes, the umpire in a trial 
of skill between Garrick and BosAvell, which could most 
nearly imitate Dr. Johnson's manner. I remember I gave 
it for Boswell in familiar conversation, and for Garrick in 
reciting. 

465. The Club.— Garrick's Death. 

Poor Johnson is in a bad state of health. I fear his con- 
stitution is broken up; I am quite grieved at it. He will 
not leave an abler defender of religion and virtue behind him; 
and the following little touch of tenderness, which I heard 
of him last night from one of the Turk's Head Club, en- 
dears him to me exceedingly. There are always a great 
many candidates ready, when any vacancy happens in the 
club, and it requires no small interest and reputation to get 
elected; but, upon Garrick's death, when numberless ap- 
plications Avere made to succeed him, Johnson was deaf to 
ihem all: he said, " No, there never could be found any 
successor worthy of such a man; and he insisted upon it 
there should be a year's widowhood in the club, before they 
thought of a new election. "(*) 

466. Metaphysical Distresses. 

In Dr. Johnson, some contrarieties very harmoniously 
meet: if he has too little charity with the opinions of others, 
and too little patience for their faults, he has the greatest 
tenderness for their persons. He told me, the other day, 

(*) [Garrick died in January, 1779, and no new election took 
place till November, 1780; when Dr. Shipley, Bishop of St. Asaph, 
was chosen a member.] 



303 JOHNSONIANA. 

he hated to hear people whine about metaphysical dis- 
tresses, when there was so much want and hunger in the 
world. I told him I supposed, then, he never wept at any 
tragedy but Jane Shore, who died for want of a loaf. He 
called me a saucy girl, but did not deny the inference. 
(1782.) 

467. Abstinence and Temperance. 

I dined very pleasantly at the Bishop of Chester's (Dr. 
Porteus). Johnson was there; and the Bishop was very 
desirous to draw him out, as he wished to show him off 
to some of the company who had never seen him. He 
begged me to sit next him at dinner, and to devote myself 
to making him talk. To this end, I consented to talk 
more than became me; and our stratagem succeeded. You 
would have enjoyed seeing him take me by the hand in 
the middle of dinner, and repeat, with no small enthusiasm, 
many passages from the " Fair Penitent," &c. I urged 
him to take a little wine; he replied, " I can't drink a 
little, child; therefore I never touch it. Abstinence is as 
easy to me, as temperance would be difficult." He was 
very good-humoured and gay. One of the company hap- 
pened to say a word about poetry; " Hush, hush!" said 
he, " it is dangerous to say a word of poetry before her; 
it is talking of the art of war before Hannibal." He con- 
tinued his jokes, and lamented that I had not married 
Chatterton, that posterity might have seen a propagation of 
poets. 

468. Oxford. — Pembroke College. 

Who do you think is my principal Cicerone at Oxford? 
Only Dr. Johnson! and we do so gallant it about! You 
cannot imagine with what delight he showed me every part 
of his own college (Pembroke). Dr. Adams, the master, 
had contrived a very pretty piece of gallantry. We spent 
the day and evening at his house. After dinner, Johnson 
begged to conduct me to see the college; he would let no 
one show me it but himself. " This was my room; this 
Shenstone's." Then, after pointing out all the rooms of 
the poets who had been of his college, "In short," said 
he, " we were a nest of singing birds." — " Here we walk- 
ed, there we played at cricket." He ran over with pleasure 



HANNAH MORE. 303 

the history of the juvenile days he passed there. When 
we came into the common hall, we spied a fine large print 
of Johnson, framed and hung up that very morning, with 
this motto, " And is not Johnson ours, himself a host?" 
Under which stared you in the face, " From Miss More's 
' Sensibility.' " This little incident amused us; — but, alas! 
Johnson looks very ill indeed — spiritless and wan. (June 13. 
1782.) 

469. Jesuits and Jansenists. 

Saturday, I went to Mrs. Reynolds's, to meet Sir Joshua 
and Dr. Johnson. Our conversation ran very much upon 
religious opinions, chiefly those of the Roman Catholics. 
He took the part of the Jesuits, and I declared myself a 
Jansenist. He was very angry because I quoted Boileau's 
bon-mot upon the Jesuits, that they had lengthened the 
Creed and shortened the Decalogue; but I continued sturdily 
to vindicate my old friends of the Port Royal. He looked 
so dreadfully that it quite grieved me. He is more mild 
and complacent than he used to be. His sickness seems to 
have softened his mind, without having at all weakened it. 
I was struck with the mild radiance of this setting sun. 
(1783.) 

470. " The Bas Bleu.'' 

I went to see Dr. Johnson. He received me with the 
greatest kindness and affection; and as to the Bas Bleu, 
all the flattery I ever received from everybody together 
would not make up the sum. He said, — but I seriously 
insist you do not tell anybody, for I am ashamed of writing 
it even to you; — he said, there was no name in poetry 
that might not be glad to own it. You cannot imagine 
how I stared: all this from Johnson, the parsimonious 
praiser! I told him I was quite delighted at his approba- 
tion: he answered quite characteristically, " And so you 
may; for I give you the opinion of a man who does not 
rate his judgment on these things very low, I can tell you." 
(April, 1784.) 

471. Johnson's last Illness. 

Poor dear Johnson! he is past all hope. I have, how- 
ever, the comfort to hear that his dread of dying is in a 



304 JOHNSONIANA. 

great measure subsided; and now he says " the bitterness 
of death is past." He sent the other day for Sir Joshua 
Reynolds; and after much serious conversation told him 
he had three favours to beg of him, and he hoped he would 
not refuse a dying friend, be they what they would. Sir 
.Toshua promised. The first was, that he would never 
paint on a Sunday; the second, that he would forgive him 
thirty pounds that he had lent him, as he wanted to leave 
them to a distressed family; the third was, that he would 
read the Bible whenever he had an opportunity, and that 
he Avould never omit it on a Sunday. There was no dif- 
ficulty but upon the first point; but at length Sir Joshua 
promised to gratify him in all. How delighted should I be 
to hear the dying discourse of this great and good man, 
especially now that faith has subdued his fears! 

Mr. Pcpys wrote me a very kind letter on the death of 
Johnson, thinking I should be impatient to hear something 
relating to liis last hours. Dr. Brocklesby, his physician, 
was with him: he said to him a little before he died, 
" Doctor, you are a Avorthy man, and my friend, but I am 
afraid you are not a Christian! What can I do better for 
you than olfer up, in your presencei, a prayer to the great 
God, that you may become a Christian in my sense of the 
word?" Instandy he fell on his knees, and put up a fer- 
vent prayer: when he got up he caught hold of his hand 
with great eagerness, and cried, " Doctor! you do not 
say, Amen!" The doctor looked foolish; but after a pause, 
cried. Amen! Johnson said, " My dear doctor, believe a 
dying man, there is no salvation but in the sacrifice of the 
Lamb of God. Go home, write down my prayer, and 
every word I have said, and bring it me to-morrow:" 
Brocklesby did so. 

A friend desired he would make his will; and as Hume, 
in his last moments, had made an impious declaration of 
his opinions, he thought it might tend to counteract the 
poison, if Johnson would make a public confession of his 
faith in his will. He said he would, seized the pen with 
great earnestness, and asked, what was the usual form of 
beginning a will? His friend told him. After the usual 
forms, he wrote, " I offer up my soul to the great and 
merciful God; I off'er it full of pollution, but in full assu- 
rance that it will be cleansed in the blood of my Redeemer." 



HANNAH MORE. 305 

And for some time he wrote on with the same vigour and 
spirit as if he had been in perfect health. When he ex- 
pressed some of his former dread of dying, Sir John said, 
" If you, Doctor, have these fears, what is to become of 
others?" " Oh! sir," said he, " I have written piously, it 
is true; but I have lived too much like other men." It 
was a consolation to him, however, in his last hours, that 
he had never written in derogation of religion or virtue. 
He talked of his death and funeral, at times, with great 
composure. On the Monday following, December the 
13th, he fell into a sound sleep, and continued in that state 
for twelve hours, and then died without a groan. 

No action of his life became him like the leaving it. 
His death makes a kind of era in literature: piety and 
goodness will not easily find a more able defender; and it 
is delightful to see him set, as it were, his dying seal to the 
professions of his life, and to the truth of Christianity. 

472. Mbe Baynal. — Sabbath-breakers. 

I now recollect, with melancholy pleasure, two little 
anecdotes of Dr. Johnson, indicating a zeal for religion 
which one cannot but admire, however characteristically 
rough. When the Abbe Raynal was introduced to him, 
upon the Abbe's advancing to shake his hand, the Doctor 
drew back, and put his hands behind him, and afterwards 
replied to the expostulation of a friend — " Sir, I will not 
shake hands with an infidel!" At another time, I remem- 
ber asking him, if he did not think the Dean of Derry a 
very agreeable man, to which he made no answer; and on 
my repeating my question, " Child," said he, " I will not 
speak anything in favour of a Sabbath-breaker, to please 
you, nor any one else." 



20 



306 JOHNSONIANA. 



Part XX. 

ANECDOTES AND RP^MARKS, 
BY BISHOP HORNE. (*) 



473. Johnson and his Writings. 

When a friend told Johnson that he was much blamed 
for having unveiled the weakness of Pope, " Sir," said he, 
" if one man undertake to write the life of another, he un- 
dertakes to exhibit his true and real character; but this can 
be done only by a faithful and accurate delineation of the 
particulars which discriminate that character." 

The biographers of this great man seem conscientiously 
to have followed the rule thus laid down by him, and have 
very fairly communicated all they knew, whether to his 
advantage, or otherwise. Much concern, disquietude, and 
offence have been occasioned by this their conduct in the 
minds of many, who apprehend that the cause in which he 
stood forth will suffer by the infirmities of the advocate 
being thus exposed to the prying and malignant eye of the 
world. 

But did these persons then ever suppose, or did they 
imagine that the world ever supposed, Dr. Johnson to have 
been a perfect character? Alas! no: we all know how 
that matter stands, if we ever look into our own hearts, 
and duly watch the current of our own thoughts, works, 
words, and actions. Johnson was honest, and kept afaith- 

(*) [From " 011a Podrida," a collection of Essays, published 
al Oiford in 1787.] 



HORNE. 307 

ful diary of these, which is before the pubUc. Let any 
man do the same for a fortnight, and publish it; and if, 
after that, he should find himself so disposed, let him 
" cast a stone." At that hour when the failings of all shall 
be made manifest, the attention of each individual will be 
confined to his own. 

It is not merely the name of Johnson that is to do ser- 
vice to any cause. It is his genius, his learning, his good 
sense, the strength of his reasonings, and the happiness of 
his illustrations. These all are precisely what they were; 
once good, and always good. His arguments in favour of 
self-denial do not lose their force because he fasted, nor 
those in favour of devotion because he said his prayers. 
Grant his failings were, if possible, still greater than these; 
will a man refuse to be guided by the sound opinion of a 
counsel, or resist the salutary prescription of a physician, 
because they who give them are not without their faults? 
A man may do so, but he will never be accounted a wise 
man for doing it. 

Johnson, it is said, was superstitious. But who shall ex- 
actly ascertain to us what superstition is? The Romanist 
is charged with it by the Church of England man; the 
churchman by the presbyterian, the presbyterian by the in- 
dependent, all by the deist, and the deist by the atheist. 
With some it is superstitious to pray; with others, to re- 
ceive the sacrament; with others, to believe in God. In 
some minds it springs from the most amiable disposition in 
the world — " a pious awe, and fear to have offended;" a 
wish rather to do too much than too little. Such a dispo- 
sition one loves, and wishes always to find in a friend; and 
it cannot be disagreeable in the sight of Him who made us. 
It argues a sensiliility of heart, a tenderness of conscience, 
and the fear of God. Let him who finds it not in himself 
beware, lest in flying from superstition he fall into irreli- 
gion and profaneness. 

That persons of eminent talents and attainments in lite- 
rature have been often complained of as dogmatical, bois- 
terous, and inattentive to the rules of good breeding, is 
well known. But let us not expect everything from any 
man. There was no occasion that Johnson should teach 
us to dance, to make bows or turn compliments; he could 
teach us better things. To reject wisdom because the per- 



308 JOHNSONIANA. 

son of him who communicates it is uncouth, and his man- 
ners are inelegant, — what is it but to throw away a pine- 
apple, and assign for a reason the roughness of its coat? 
Who quarrels with a botanist for not being an astronomer? 
or with a moralist for not being a mathematician? As it 
is said, in concerns of a much higher nature, " Every man 
hath his gift — one after this manner, and another after that." 
It is our business to profit by all, and to learn of each that 
in which each is best qualified to instruct us. 

That Johnson was generous and charitable, none can 
deny. But he was not always judicious in the selection of 
his objects: distress was a sufficient recommendation; and 
he did not scrutinize into the failings of the distressed. 
May it be always my lot to have such a benefactor! Some 
are so nice in a scrutiny of this kind, that they can never 
find any proper objects of their benevolence, and are neces- 
sitated to save their money. It should doubtless be distri- 
buted in the best manner we are able to distribute it; but 
what would become of us all, if He on whose bounty all 
depend, should be extreme to mark that which is done 
amiss? 

It is hard to judge any man, without a due consideration 
of all circumstances. Here were stupendous abilities and 
suitable attainments; but then here were hereditary dis- 
orders of body and mind reciprocally aggravating each 
other — a scrofulous frame, and a melancholy temper: here 
was a life, the greater part of which passed in making pro- 
vision for the day, under the pressure of poverty and sick- 
ness, sorrow and anguish. So far to gain the ascendant 
over these as to do what Johnson did, required very great 
strength of mind indeed. Who can say that, in a like 
situation, he should long have possessed or been able to 
exert it? 

From the mixture of power and weakness in the com- 
position of this wonderful man, the scholar should learn 
humility. It was designed to correct that pride which 
great parts and great learning are apt to produce in their 
possessor. In him it had the desired effect. For though 
consciousness of superiority might sometimes induce him 
to carry it high with man (and even this was much abated 
in the latter part of life), his devotions have shown to the 



HORNE. 309 

whole world how humbly he walked at all times with his 
God. 

His example may likewise encourage those of timid and 
gloomy dispositions not to despond. When they reflect 
that the vigour of such an intellect could not preserve its 
possessor from the depredations of melancholy, they will 
cease to be surprised and alarmed at the degree of their 
own sufferings : they will resolve to bear with patience 
and resignation the malady to which they find a Johnson 
subject as well as themselves; and if they want words in 
which to ask relief from Him who alone can give it, the 
God of mercy and Father of all comfort, language affords 
no finer than those in which his prayers are conceived. 
Child of sorrow, whoever thou art, use them; and be 
thankful that the man existed by whose means thou hast 
them to use. 

His eminence and his fame must of course have excited 
envy and malice; but let envy and malice look at his in- 
firmities and his charities, and they will quickly melt into 
pity and love. 

That he should not be conscious of the abilities with 
which Providence had blessed him was impossible. He 
felt his own powers; he felt what he was capable of having 
performed; and he saw how little, comparatively speaking, 
he had performed. Hence his apprehensions on the near 
prospect of the account to be made, viewed through the 
medium of constitutional and morbid melancholy, which 
often excluded from his sight the bright beams of divine 
mercy. May those beams ever shine upon us! But let 
them not cause us to forget, that talents have been bestowed 
of which an account must be rendered, and that the fate of 
the " unprofitable servant" may justly beget apprehensions 
in the stoutest mind. The indolent man who is without 
such apprehensions has never yet considered the subject 
as he ought. For one person who fears death too much, 
there are a thousand who do not fear enough, nor have 
thought in earnest about it. Let us only put in practice 
the duty of self-examination; let us inquire into the success 
we have experienced in our war against the passions, or 
even against undue indulgence of the common appetites — 
eating, drinking, and sleeping; we shall soon perceive how 
much more easy it is to form resolutions than to execute 



310 JOHNSONIANA. 

them, and shall no longer find occasion, perhaps, to wonder 
at the weakness of Johnson. 

On the whole, in the memoirs of him that have been 
published, there are so many witty sayings and so many 
wise ones, by which the world, if it so please, may be at 
once entertained and improved, that I do not regret their 
publication. In this, as in all other instances, Ave are to 
adopt the good and reject the evil. The little stories of 
his oddities and his infirmities in common life Avill, after a 
while, be overlooked and forgotten; but his writings will 
live forever, still more and more studied and admired, while 
Britons shall continue to be characterised by a love of ele- 
gance and sublimity, of good sense and virtue. The sin- 
cerity of his repentance, the steadfastness of his faith, and 
the fervour of his charity, forbid us to doubt, that his sun 
set in clouds to rise without them: and of this let us always 
be mindful, that every one who is made better by his books 
will add a wreath to his crown. 



311 



Part XXI. 

ANECDOTES, 
BY JAMES NORTHCOTE, ESQ., R. A. (*) 



474. Poverty and Mortification. 

At the time when Sir Joshua Reynolds resided in New- 
port Street, he one afternoon, accompanied by his sister 
Frances, paid a visit to the Miss Cottrells, who lived much 
in the fashionable world. Johnson was also of the party on 
this tea visit; and, at that time, being very poor, he Avas, 
as might be expected, rather shabbily apparelled. The 
maid servant, by accident, attended at the door to let them 
in, but did not know Johnson, who was the last of the 
three that came in; Avhen the servant maid seeing this un- 
couth and dirty figure of a man, and not conceiving that 
he could be one of the company who came to visit her 
mistress, laid hold of his coat just as he was going up 
stairs, and pulled him back again, saying, " You fellow! 
what is your business here? I suppose you intended to rob 
the house." This most unlucky accident threw poor 
Johnson into such a fit of shame and anger, that he roared 
out, like a bull, " What have I done? what have I done?" 
Nor could he recover himself for the remainder of the even- 
ing from this mortifying circumstance. 

(*) [From " Memoirs of Sir Joshua Reynolds, by James North- 
cote, E.^q., R. A."] 



312 JOHNSONIANA. 

475. Richardson. 

Dr. Johnson had a ^eat desire to cultivate the friendship 
of Richardson, the author of " Clarissa;" and, with this 
view, paid him frequent visits. These were received very 
coldly by the latter; " but," observed the Doctor, in speak- 
ing of this to a friend, " I was determined to persist till I 
had gained my point; because I knew very well that, when 
I had once overcome his reluctance and shyness of humour, 
our intimacy would contribute to the happiness of both." 
The event verified the Doctor's prediction. 

476. Idle Curiosity. 

Dr. Johnson was displeased if he supposed himself zK 
any time made the object of idle curiosity. When Miss 
Reynolds once desired him to dine at Sir Joshua's, on a 
day fixed upon by herself, he readily accepted the invita- 
tion; yet, having doubts as to the importance of her com- 
panions, or of her reasons for inviting him, he added, at 
the same time, " but I will not be made a show of." 

477. ''Clarissa.'' 

Johnson introduced Sir Joshua Reynolds and his sister 
to Richardson; but hinted to them, at the same time, that, 
if they wished to see the latter in good humour, they must 
expatiate on the excellencies of his " Clarissa." 

478. Introductions and Conclusions. 

I have heard Sir Joshua repeat a speech which the 
Doctor made about the time of his writing the " Idler," 
and in which he gave himself credit in two particulars: — 
" There are two things," said he, " which I am confident 
I can do very well: one is, an introduction to any literary 
work, stating what it is to contain, and how it should be 
executed in the most perfect manner; the other is a conclu- 
sion, showing, from various causes, why the execution has 
not been equal to what the author promised to himself and 
to the public." 

479. Tea. 

Johnson's extraordinary, or rather extravagant, fondness 
for tea did not fail to excite notice wherever he went; and 



NORTHCOTE. 313 

it is related, though not by Boswell, that whilst on his Scot- 
tish tour, and spending some time at Dunvegan, the dowa- 
ger Lady Macleod having repeatedly helped him, until she 
had poured out sixteen cups, she then asked him, if a small 
basin would not save him trouble and be more agreeable? 
— " I wonder, madam," answered he roughly, " why all 
the ladies ask me such questions. It is to save yourselves 
trouble, madam, and not me." The lady was silent, and 
resumed her task. 

480. ".^ completely wicked Many 

i)r. Johnson being in company with Sir Joshua and his 
sister, Miss Reynolds, and the conversation turning on 
morality. Sir Joshua said, he did not think there was in the 
world any man completely wicked. Johnson answered, 
" I do not know what you mean by completely wicked." 
" I mean," returned Sir Joshua, " a man lost to all sense 
of shame." Dr. Johnson replied, that " to be completely 
wicked, a man must be also lost to all sense of conscience." 
Sir Joshua said, he thought it was exactly the same; he 
could see no difference. " What!" said Johnson, " can 
you see no difference? I am ashamed to hear you, or any 
body utter such nonsense, when the one relates to men 
only, the other to God!" Miss Reynolds then observed, 
that when shame was lost, conscience was nearly gone. 
Johnson agreed that her conclusion was very just. 

481. Richardson on Painting. 

Dr. Johnson knew nothing of the art of painting, either 
in theory or practice; which is one proof that he could not 
be the author of Sir Joshua's " Discourses:" indeed, his 
imperfect sight was some excuse for his total ignorance in 
that department of study. One day, being at dinner at 
Sir Joshua's, in company with many painters, in the course 
of conversation Richardson's "Treatise on Painting" hap- 
pened to be mentioned: "Ah!" said Johnson, "I remem- 
ber, when I was at college, I by chance found that book on 
my stairs: I took it up with me to my chamber, and read 
it through, and truly I did not think it possible to say so 
much upon the art." Sir Joshua, who could not hear dis- 
tinctly, desired of one of the company to be informed what 
Johnson had said; and it being repeated to him so loud that 



314 JOHNSONIANA. 

Johnson heard it, the Doctor seemed hurt, and added, " But 
I did not wish, sir, that Sir Joshua should have been told 
what I then said." The latter speech of Johnson denotes 
a delicacy in him, and an unwillingness to offend; and it 
evinces a part of his character which he has not had the 
credit of having ever possessed. 

482. " Venice Preserved." 

One day, Johnson and Goldsmith meeting at Sir Joshua 
Reynolds's table, the conversation turned on the merits of 
Otway's " Venice Preserved," which Goldsmith highly 
extolled; asserting that of all tragedies it was the one nearest 
in excellence to Shakspeare: when Johnson, in his pe- 
remptory manner, contradicted him, and pronounced that 
there were not forty good lines to be found in the whole 
play; adding, " Pooh! what stuff are these lines! 

" What feminine tales hast thou been listening to, 
Of unair'd sheets, catarrli, and toothach, got 
By thin-soled shoes?" 

" True!" replied Goldsmith; " to be sure, that is very like 
Shakspeare." 

483. Criticisms on Goldsmith. 

Soon after Goldsmith's death, some people dining with 
Sir Joshua were commenting rather freely on some part 
of his Avorks, which, in their opinion, neither discovered 
talent nor originality. To this Dr. Johnson listened, in 
his usual growling manner, for some time, when at length, 
his patience being exhausted, he rose Avith great dignity, 
looked them full in the face, and exclaimed, " If nobody 
were suffered to abuse poor Goldy but those who could 
write as well, he would have few censors." 

484. Portrait of Johnson reading. 

In 1775, Sir Joshua painted that portrait of his friend 
Johnson, which represents him as reading and near-sighted. 
This was very displeasing to the Doctor, Avho, when he 
saw it, reproved Sir Joshua for painting him in that manner 
and attitude; saying, " It is not friendly to hand down to 
posterity the imperfections of any man." But on the con- 
trary. Sir Joshua esteemed it as a circumstance in nature 
to be remarked, as characterising the person represented, 
and therefore as giving additional value to the portrait. 



NORTHCOTE. 315 



485. Johnson's Pride. 



Of Johnson's pride, I have heard Sir Joshua himself 
observe, that if any man drew him into a state of obligation 
without his own consent, that man was the first he would 
affront, by way of clearing off the account. 

486. Trip to Plymouth. — Clouted Cream and Cider. 

Reynolds's trip to Plymouth, accompanied by Dr. John- 
son, took place in 1762: when, during a visit to a neigh- 
bouring gentleman, Johnson's irregularity of conduct pi'O- 
duced considerable alarm in the mind of their host; who, 
in order to gratify his guests, had placed before them every 
delicacy which the house afforded. On this occasion the 
Doctor, who seldom showed much discretion in his feeding, 
devoured so large a quantity of new honey and of clouted 
cream, which is peculiar to Devonshire, besides drinking 
large potations of new cider, that the entertainer found him- 
self much embarrassed between his anxious regard for the 
Doctor's health, and his fear of breaking througli the rules 
of politeness, by giving him a hint on the subject. The 
strength of Johnson's constitution, however, saved him 
from any unpleasant consequences which might have been 
expected. 

487. Partner on Shakspeare. 

Dr. Farmer, of Cambridge, had written a most excellent 
and convincing pamphlet, to prove that Shakspeare knew 
little or nothing of the ancients but by translations. Being 
in company with Dr. Johnson, he received from him the 
following compliment upon the work: " Dr. Farmer, you 
have done that which never was done before; that is, you 
have completely finished a controversy beyond all further 
doubt." "I thank you," answered Dr. Farmer, "for 
your flattering opinion of my work, but still think there 
are some critics who will adhere to their old opinions, — 
certain persons that I could name." " Ah!" said Johnson, 
" that may be true; for the limbs will quiver and move 
after the soul is gone." 

488. Johnson and Peter Pindar. 
Dr. Wolcot, in a letter addressed to me, says, — " Hap- 



316 JOHNSONIANA. 

pening to be in company with Dr, Johnson, and observing 
to him, that his portrait by Reynolds was not sufficiently 
dignified — prepared with a flat contradiction, he replied, in 
a kind of bull-dog growl, ' No, sir! the pencil of Reynolds 
never wanted dignity nor the graces.' " 

489. '' Peter Paul Ruhens:' 

James MacArdell, the mezzotinto engraver, having 
taken a very good print from the portrait of Rubens, came 
with it one morning to Sir Joshua Reynolds, to inquire if 
he could inform him particularly of the many titles to which 
Rubens had a right, in order to inscribe them properly 
under his print; saying, he believed that Rubens had been 
knighted by the kings of France, Spain, and England; 
was secretary of state in Flanders, and to the privy seal in 
Spain; and had been employed in a ministerial capacity 
from the court of Madrid to the court of London, to nego- 
tiate a treaty of peace between the two crowns; and that 
he was also a magistrate of Antwerp, &c. Dr. Johnson, 
happening to be in the room with Sir Joshua at the time, 
and understanding MacArdell's inquiry, interfered rather 
abruptly, saying, " Pooh! pooh! put his name alone under 
the print, ' Peter Paul Rubens:' that is full sufficient, and 
more than all the rest." This advice of the Doctor was 
accordingly followed. 

490. Compliments. 

At the time that Miss Linley was in the highest esteem 
as a public singer, Dr. Johnson came in the evening to 
drink tea with Miss Reynolds; and when he entered the 
room, she said to him, " See, Dr. Johnson, what a pre- 
ference I give to your company; for I had an offer of a 
place in a box at the Oratorio, to hear Miss Linley; but I 
would rather sit with you than hear Miss Linley sing." 
*' And I, madam," replied Johnson, " would rather sit 
with you than sit upon a throne." The Doctor would not 
be surpassed even in a trifling compliment. 

491. Learned Ladies. 

Several ladies being in company with Dr. Johnson, it 
was remarked by one of them, that a learned woman was 
by no means a rare character in the present age; when 



NORTHCOTE. 317 

Johnson replied, " I have known a great many ladies who 
knew Latin, but very few who knew English." A lady 
observed, that women surpassed men in epistolary corre- 
spondence. Johnson said, " I do not know that." " At 
least," said the lady, " they are most pleasing when they 
are in conversation." " No, madam," returned Johnson, 
" I think they are most pleasing when they hold their 
tongues." 

492. Saying good Things. 

A friend of Dr. Johnson's, in conversation with him, 
was lamenting the disagreeable situation in which those 
persons stood who were eminent for their witticisms, as 
they Avere perpetually expected to be saying good things, 
— that it was a heavy tax on them. " It is, indeed," said 
Johnson, " a very heavy tax on them; 'a tax which no man 
can pay who does not steal." 

493. Burke. — Sir Joshua Reynolds. 

Speaking of how much Sir Joshua owed to the writings 
and conversation of Johnson, Mr. Burke said, that " no- 
thing showed more the greatness of Sir Joshua's parts than 
his taking advantage of both, and making some application 
of them to his profession, when Johnson neither under- 
stood, nor desired to understand, anything of painting, and 
had no distinct idea of its nomenclature, even in those parts 
which had got most into use in common life." 



318 JOHNSONIANA. 



Part XXII. 
ANECDOTES, 

BY ANNA SEWARD.(*) 

494. Johnson's " Beauties.''^ 

Love is the great softener of savage dispositions. Johnson 
had always a metaphysic passion for one princess or other: 
first, the rustic Lucy Porter, before he married her nau- 
seous mother; next, the handsome, but haughty, Molly 
Aston; next, the sublimated, methodistic. Hill Boothby, 
who read her bible in Hebrew; and, lastly, the more 
charming Mrs. Tlirale, with the beauty of the first, the 
learning of the second, and with more worth than a bushel 
of such sinners and such saints. It is ridiculously divert- 
ing to see the old elephant forsaking his nature before these 
princesses — 

" To make them mirth, use all his might, and writhe, 
His mighty I'orm disporting." 

This last and long-enduring passion for Mrs. Thrale 
was, however, composed equally, perhaps, of cupboard 
love, Platonic love, and vanity tickled and gratified, from 
morn to night, by incessant homage. The two first ingre- 
dients are certainly oddly heterogeneous; but Johnson, in 
religion and politics, in love and in hatred, was composed 
of such opposite and contradictory materials, as never 

(*) [From " Letters of Anna Seward, written between the years 
1784 and 1807."] 



ANNA SEWARD. 319 

before met in the human mind. This is the reason why 
folk are never weary of talking, reading, and writing 
about a man — 

" So various, that he seem'd to be 
Not one, but all mankind's epitome." 

495. Johnson's Courtship. 

I have often heard my mother say she perfectly remem- 
bered .Johnson's wife. He has recorded of her that beauty 
which existed only in his imagination. She had a very 
red face, and very indifferent features; and her manners 
in advanced life — for her children were all grown up when 
Johnson first saw her — had an unbecoming excess of girl- 
ish levity, and disgusting affectation. The rustic pretti- 
ness and artless manners of her daughter, the present Mrs. 
Lucy Porter, had won Johnson's youthful heart, when she 
Avas upon a visit at my grandfather's, in Johnson's school- 
days. Disgusted by his unsightly form, she had a per- 
sonal aversion to him. Business taking Johnson to Birming- 
ham, on the death of his own father, and calling upon his 
coy mistress there, he found her father dying. He passed 
all his leisure hours at Mr. Porter's, attending his sick-bed, 
and, in a few months after his death, asked Mrs. Johnson's 
consent to marry the old widow. After expressing her 
surprise at a request so extraordinary — " No, Sam, my 
willing consent you will never have to so preposterous a 
match. You are not twenty-five, and she is turned of fifty. 
If she had any prudence, this request had never been made 
to me. Where are your means of subsistence? Porter 
has died poor, in consequence of his wife's expensive 
habits. You have great talents, but, as yet, have turned 
them into no profitable channel." " Mother, I have not 
deceived Mrs. Porter: I have told her the worst of me; 
that I am of mean extraction, that I have no money, and 
that I have had an uncle hanged." She replied, that she 
valued no one more or less for his descent; that she had 
no more money than myself; and that, though she had not 
had a relation hanged, she had fifty who deserved hang- 
ing." And thus became accomplished this very curious 
amour.(*) 

(*) [This account was given to Mr. Boswell; who, as Miss 



320 JOHNSONIANA. 

496. Miss Elizabeth Aston. 

The following is the conversation that passed between 
Dr. Johnson and myself in company, on the subject of 
Miss Elizabeth Aston, of Stowe-hill, with whom he 
always passed so much time when he was in Lichfield, 
and for whom he professed so great a friendship: — Seward. 
" T have often heard my mother say. Doctor, that Mrs. 
Elizabeth Aston was, in her youth, a very beautiful wo- 
man; and that, with all the consciousness and spiteful 
spleen of a very bad temper, she had great powers of pleas- 
ing; that she was lively and insinuating. I knew her not 
till the vivacity of her youth had long been extinguished; 
and I confess I looked in vain for the traces of former 
ability. I wish to have your opinion of what she was — 
you, Avho knew her so well in her best days." Johnson. 
" My dear, when thy mother told thee Aston was hand- 
some, thy mother told thee truth: she was very handsome. 
When thy mother told thee that Aston loved to abuse her 
neighbours, she told thee truth; but when thy mother told 
thee that Aston had any marked ability in that same abusive 
business, that wit gave it zest, or imagination colour, thy 
mother did not tell thee truth. No, no, madam, Aston's 
understanding was not of any strength, either native or ac- 
quired." Seward. " But, sir, I have heard you say, that 
her sister's husband, Mr. Walmesley, was a man of bright 



Seward could not have known it of her own knowledge, asked the 
lady for her authority. Miss Seward, in reply, quoted Mrs. 
Cobb, an old friend of Johnson's, who resided at Lichfield. To 
her, then, Boswell addressed himself; and, to his equal satisfaction 
and surprise, was answered that Mrs. Cobb had not only never 
told such a story, but that she had not even ever heard of it. Not- 
withstanding this denial, Miss Seward persisted in her story to 
the last. The report as to the hanging was probably derived from 
a coarse passage in the Rev. Donald M'Nicol's Remarks on Dr. 
Johnson's Journey to the Hebrides: — " But, whatever the Doctor 
may in.sinuate about the present scarcity of trees in Scotland, we 
are much deceived by fame if a very near ancestor of his, who 
was a native of that country, did not find to his cost, that a tree 
was not quite such a rarity in his days." That some Scotchman, 
of the name of Johnston, may have been hanged in the seventeenth 
century, is very likely; but there seems no reason whatsoever to 
believe that any of Dr. Johnson's family were natives of Scot- 
land.-C] 



ANNA SEWARD. 321 

parts, and extensive knowledge; that he was also a man of 
strong passions, and though benevolent in a thousand in- 
stances, yet irascible in as many. It is well known, that 
Mr. Walmesley was considerably governed by this lady. 
Could it be, that, without some marked intellectual pow- 
ers, she could obtain absolute dominion over such a man?" 
Johnson. " Madam, I have said, and truly, that Walmesley 
had bright and extensive powers of mind; that they had 
been cultivated by familiarity with the best authors, and by 
connections with the learned and polite. It is a fact, that 
Aston obtained nearly absolute dominion over his will; it is 
no less a fact, that his disposition was irritable and violent: 
but Walmesley was a man; and there is no man who can 
resist the repeated attacks of a furious woman. Walmes- 
ley had no alternative but to submit, or turn her out of 
doors."(*) 

497. Molly Aston. 

Mr. Gilbert Walmesley, my father's predecessor in this 
house, Avas Johnson's Meceenas, and the Molly Aston, (t) 
whom he mentions with such passionate attachment in his 
letters to Mrs. Thrale, was his wife's sister, — a daughter 
of Sir Thomas Aston, a wit, a beauty, and a toast. 
Johnson was always fancying himself in love with some 
princess or other. It was when he was a school-boy, 
under my grandfather, that the reputation of his talents 
and rapid progress in the classics induced the noble- 
minded Walmesley to endure, at his elegant table, the 
low-born squalid youth — here that he suffered him and 
Garrick to " imp their eagle wings,'' a delighted spectator 
and auditor of their efforts. It was here that Miss Molly 
Aston was frequently a visitor in the family of her brother- 
in-law, and probably amused herself with the uncouth 
adorations of the learned, though dirty stripling. Lucy 
Porter, whose visit to Lichfield had been but for a few 
weeks, was then gone back to her parents at Birmingham, 
and the brighter Molly Aston became the Laura of our 
Petrarch. 

(*) [Mr. Boswell declined to insert this account in the Life of 
Johnson. He had, no doubt, seen much reason to question its ac- 
curacy.] 

(+) [See ante, No. 71.] 
21 



322 JOHNSONIANA. 



498. Mrs. Cobb. 

Poor Moll Cobb, as Dr. Johnson used to call her, is 
gone to her long home. Johnson spoke with uniform 
contempt both of the head and heart of this personage. 
" How should Moll Cobb be a wit?" would he exclaim, 
in a room full of company. " Cobb has read nothing, 
Cobb knows nothing; and where nothing has been put 
into the brain, nothing can come of it, to any purpose of 
rational entertainment." Somebody replied, — " Then 
why is Dr. Johnson so often her visitor?" " O! I love 
Cobb — Hove Moll Cobb for her impudence." The despot 
was right in his premises, but his conclusion was erroneous. 
Little as had been put into Mrs. Cobb's brain, much of 
shrewd, biting, and humorous satire was native in the soil, 
and has often amused very superior minds to her own. 

499. Lucy Porter. 

After a gradual decay of a few months, we have lost 
dear Lucy Porter, (*) the earliest object of Dr. Johnson's 
love. \n youth, her fair clean complexion, bloom, and 
rustic prettiness, pleased the men. More than once she 
might have married advantageously; but as to the ena- 
moured affections, 

" High Taurus' snow, fann'd by the eastern wind, 
Was not more cold." 

Spite of the accustomed petulance of her temper, and odd 
perverseness, since she had no malevolence, I regret her as 
a friendly creature, of intrinsic worth, Avith whom, from 
childhood, I had been intimate. She was one of those few 
beings M^ho, from a sturdy singularity of temper, and some 
prominent good qualities of head and heart, was enabled, 
even in her days of scanty maintenance, to make society 
glad to receive and pet the grown spoiled child. Affluence 
was not hers till it came to her in her fortieth year, by the 
death of her eldest brother. From the age of twenty till 
that period, she had boarded with Dr. Johnson's mother, 
who still kept that bookseller's shop by which her husband 

(*) [Miss Porter survived Dr. Johnson just thirteen months. 
She died at Lichfield, in her seventy-first year, January 13, 1786.] 



ANNA SEWARD. 323 

had supplied the scanty means of subsistence. Meantime, 
Lucy Porter kept the best company in our little city, but 
would make no engagement on market days, lest Granny, 
as she called Mrs. Johnson, should catch cold by serving 
in the shop. By these good traits in her character, were 
the most respectable inhabitants of Lichfield induced to 
bear, with kind smiles, her mulish obstinacy and perverse 
contradictions. Johnson himself set the example, and ex- 
tended to her that compliant indulgence which he showed 
not to any other person. I have heard her scold him like 
a school-boy, for soiling her floor with his shoes; for she 
was clean as a Dutchwoman in her house, and exactly neat 
in her person. Dress, too, she loved in her odd way; 
but we will not assert that the Graces were her hand- 
maids. Friendly, cordial, and cheerful to those she loved, 
she was more esteemed, more amusing, and more regretted, 
than many a polished character, over Avhose smooth, but 
insipid surface, the attention of those who have mind 
passes listless and uninterested. 

500. Dinner at Billy's. — Jane Harry. 

The following are the minutes of that curious coversa- 
tion (*) which passed at Mr. Dilly's, on the 15th of April, 
1778, in a literary party, formed by Dr. Johnson, Mr. 
Boswell, Dr. Mayo, and others, whom Mr. Knowles and 
myself had been invited to meet, and in which Dr. John- 
son and that lady disputed so earnestly. It commenced 
with Mrs. Knowles saying: — " I am to ask thy indulgence, 
Doctor, towards a gentle female to whom thou usedst to be 
kind, and who is uneasy in the loss of that kindness. Jenny 
Harry weeps at the consciousness that thou wilt not speak 
to her." Johnson. " Madam, I hate the odious wench, 
and desire you will not talk to me about her." Knowles. 
" Yet what is her crime. Doctor?" Johnson. " Apostacy, 
madam; apostacy from the community in which she was 
educated." Knowles. " Surely the quitting one commu- 
nity for another cannot be a crime, if it is done from motive^ 
of conscience. Hadst thou been educated in the Romish 
church, I must suppose thou wouldst have abjured its errors, 
and that there would have been merit in the abjuration." 

(*)[See Boswell, vol. iv. pp. 155,157. n.] 



324 JOHNSONIANA. 

Johnson. " Madam, if I had been educated in the Roman 
Catholic faith, I believe I should have questioned my right 
to quit the religion of my fathers; therefore, well may I hate 
the arrogance of a young wench, who sets herself up for a 
judge on theological points, and deserts the religion in whose 
bosom she was nurtured." Knowles. " She has not done 
so; the name and the faith of Christians are not denied to the 
sectaries." Johnson. " If the name is not, the common 
sense is." Knowles. " I will not dispute this point with 
thee, Doctor, at least at present; it would carry us too far. 
Suppose it granted, that, in the mind of a young girl, the 
weaker arguments appeared the stronger, her Avant of better 
judgment should excite thy pity, not thy resentment." 
Johnson. " Madam, it has my anger and my contempt, and 
always will have them." Knoavles. " Consider, Doctor, 
she must be sincere. Consider what a noble fortune she has 
sacrificed." Johnson. "Madam, madam, I have never 
taught myself to consider that the association of folly can 
extenuate guilt." Knowles. " Ah! Doctor, we cannot 
rationally suppose that the Deity will not pardon a defect 
in judgment (supposing it should prove one) in that breast 
where the consideration of serving Him, according to its 
idea, in spirit and truth, has been a preferable inducement 
to that of worldly interest." Johnson. " Madam, I pretend 
not to set bounds to the mercy of the Deity; but I hate the 
wench, and shall ever hate her. I hate all impudence; but 
the impudence of a chit's apostacy I nauseate." Knowles. 
" Jenny is a very gentle creature. She trembles to have 
offended her parent, though far removed from his presence; 
she grieves to have offended her guardian; and she is sorry 
to have offended Dr. Johnson, whom she loved, admired, 
and honoured." Johnson. " Why, then, madam, did she 
not consult the man Avhom she pretends to have loved, 
admired, and honoured, upon her new-fangled scruples? 
If she had looked up to that man with any degree of the 
respect she professes, she would have supposed his ability 
to judge of fit and right, at least equal to that of a raw wench 
just out of her primer." Knowles. " Ah! Doctor, remem- 
ber it was not from amongst the witty and the learned that 
Christ selected his disciples, and constituted the teachers of 
his precepts. Jenny thinks Dr. Johnson great and good; 
but she also thinks the gospel demands and enjoins a sim- 



ANNA SEWARD. 325 

pier form of worship than that of the Established Church; 
and that it is not in wit and eloquence to supersede the 
force of what appears to her a plain and regular system, 
which cancels all typical and mysterious ceremonies, as 
fruitless and even idolatrous; and ask only obedience to its 
injunctions, and the ingenuous homage of a devout heart." 
Johnson. " The homage of a fool's head, madam, you 
should say, if you will pester me about the ridiculous 
wench." Knowles. "If thou choosest to suppose her 
ridiculous, thou canst not deny that she has been religious, 
sincere, disinterested. Canst thou believe that the gate 
of Heaven will be shut to the tender and pious mind, 
whose first consideration has been that of apprehended 
duty?" Johnson. " Pho, pho, madam, who says it will?" 
Knowles. " Then if Heaven shuts not its gate, shall man 
shut his heart? If the Deity accept the homage of such as 
sincerely serve him under every form of worship. Dr. John- 
son and this humble girl Avill, it is to be hoped, meet in a 
blessed eternity, whither human animosity must not be 
carried." Johnson. " Madam, I am not fond of meeting 
fools anywhere; they are detestable company, and while it 
is in my power to avoid conversing with them, I certainly 
shall exert that power; and so you may tell the odious 
wench, whom you have persuaded to think herself a saint, 
and of whom you will, I suppose, make a preacher; but I 
shall take care she does not preach to me." — The loud and 
angry tone in which he thundered out these replies to his 
calm and able antagonist, frightened us all, except Mrs. 
Knowles, who gently, not sarcastically, smiled at his 
injustice. Mr. Boswell whispered me, " I never saw this 
mighty lion so chafed before. "(*) 

501. BoswelVs " Tour to the Hebrides.'''' 

The general style of Boswell's Tour is somewhat too 
carelesss, and its egotism is ridiculous; but surely to the 

(*) ["Boswell's Life of Johnson is out. It contains the memo- 
rable conversation at Dilly's, but without that part of it of which I 
made minutes. This omission is surely unjustifiable, as I gave 
Mr. Boswell my memoir, and I am sure it contains nothing but 
what was said by Mrs. Knowles and the despot." Seward, May 
19, 1791. — For Boswell's reasons for leaving out the lady's com- 
munication, see Life, vol. iv. p. 15; and for Mrs. Knowles's own 
version of this conversation, seepo5^, No. 616.] 



326 JOHNSONIANA. 

cold-hearted and fastidious reader only, will it seem 
ridiculous. The slipshod style is richly compensated by 
the palpable iidelity of the interesting anecdotes; the 
egotism, by that good-humoured ingenuousness with which 
it is given, and by its unsuspecting confidence in the 
candour of the reader. The incidents, and characteristic 
traits of this valuable work, grapple our attention perforce. 
How strongly our imagination is impressed when the 
massive Being is presented to it, stalking, like a Green- 
land bear, over the barren Hebrides, roaming round the 
black rocks and lonely coasts, in a small boat, on rough 
seas, and saluting the celebrated Flora Macdonald in the 
Isle of Sky! (*) 

The spirit of Boswell's Tour with Johnson runs clear to 
the last syllable. Those who are not interested in its anec- 
dotes can have little intellectual curiosity, and no imagina- 
tion. Those who are not entertained with the perpetual 
triumph of sarcastic Avit over fair, ingenuous argument, 
must be sturdier moralists than ever Johnson himself affected 



(*) [" To see Dr. Samuel Johnson, the great champion of the 
English Tories, salute Miss Flora Macdonald in the I^le of Skj-, 
was a striking sight; for though somewhat congenial in their 
notions, it was very improbable they should meet here." — BoswEr,L. 
It is stated in the account of the rebellion, published under the 
title of ' Ascaiiius,^ that she was the daughter of Mr. Macdonald, a 
tacksman or_gentleman-farmer, of Melton, in South Uist, and was, 
in 1746, about twenty-four years old. It is also said, that her por- 
trait was painted in London in 1747, for Commodore Smith, in 
whose ship she had been brought prisoner from Scotland. Dr. 
Johnson says of her to Mrs. Thrale, " She must then have been 
a very young lady; she is now not old ; of a pleasing person, and 
elegant behaviour. She told me that she thought herself honoured 
by my visit; and I am sure that whatever regard she bestowed on 
me was liberally repaid. ' If thou likest her opinions, thou wilt 
praise her virtue.' She was carried to London, but dismissed 
without a trial, and came down with Malcolm Macleod, against 
whom sufficient evidence could not be procured. She and her 
husband are poor, and are going to try their fortune in America. 
Sic rerum volvitur orbis." — Letters, i. 153. They did emigrate 
to America ; but returned to Sky, where she died on the 4th March, 
1790, leaving a son, Colonel John Macdonald, now, as I am in- 
formed, residing at Exeter, and a daughter still alive in Sky, 
married to a Macleod, a distant relation of the Macleod. — Croker. 
It is remarkable that this distinguished lady signed her name 
Flory, instead of the more classical orthographj-. Her marriage 
contract, which is in my possession, bears the name spelled Mory. 
— Walter Scott. 



ANNA SEWARD. 327 

to have been; and those who do not love the biographer, as 
they read, whatever imperfections they may find in the 
massive Being whom he so strongly characterises, can 
have no hearts. It is for the line of Bruce to be proud of 
the historian of Corsica: it is for the house of Auchinleck 
to boast of him who, with the most fervent personal attach- 
ment to an illustrious literary character, has yet been suffi- 
ciently faithful to the just claims of the public upon biogra- 
phic fidelity, to represent him, not as his weak or prejudiced 
idolaters might wish to behold him, — not in the light in 
which they desire to contemplate Johnson who pronounce 
his writings to be an obscure jargon of pompous pedantry, 
and his imputed virtues a superstitious farrago of pharisaic 
ostentation, — but as he was: the most wonderful composi- 
tion of great and absurd, of misanthropy and benevolence, 
of luminous intellect and prejudiced darkness, that was ever 
produced in the human breast. 

502. Mr. and Mrs. Piozzi. 

I am become acquainted with Mr. and Mrs. Piozzi. 
Her conversation is that bright wine of the intellects which 
has no lees. Dr. Johnson told me truth when he said, she 
had more colloquial wit than most of our literary women: 
it is indeed a fountain of perpetual flow. But he did not 
tell me truth when he asserted that Piozzi was an ugly 
dog, without particular skill in his profession. Mr. Piozzi 
is a handsome man, in middle life, with gentle, pleasing, 
and unaffected manners, and with very eminent skill in his 
profession. Though he has not a powerful or fine-toned 
voice, he sings with transcending grace and expression. 
I am charmed with his perfect expression on his instru- 
ment. Surely the finest sensibilities must vibrate through 
his frame, since they breathe so sweetly through his song! 
(Oct. 1787.) 

503. Reading Manuscripts. 

When last in Lichfield, Johnson told me that a lady in 
London once sent him a poem which she had written, and 
afterwards desired to know his opinion of it. " ' Madam, 
I have not cut the leaves; I did not even peep between 
them.' I met her again in company, and she again asked 
me after the trash: I made no reply, and began talking to 



328 JOHNSONIANA. 

another person. The next time we met, she asked me if 
I had yet read her poem; I answered, ' No, madam, nor 
ever intend it.' " Shocked at the unfeeling rudeness he 
thus recorded of himself, I replied, that I was surprised 
any person should obtrude their writings upon his atten- 
tion; adding, that if I could write as well as Milton or 
Gray, I should think the best fate to be desired for my 
compositions was exemption from his notice. I expected 
a sharp sarcasm in return, but he only rolled his large head 
in silence. Johnson told me once, " he would hang a dog 
that read the ' Lycidas' of Milton twice." " What, then," 
replied I, " must become of me, who can say it by heart; 
and who often repeat it to myself with a delight, which 
grows by what it feeds upon?" "Die," returned the 
growler, " in a surfeit of bad taste." Thus it was that the 
wit and awless impoliteness of the stupendous creature bore 
down, by storm, every barrier which reason attempted to 
rear against his injustice! 

504. Last Visit to Lichfield. 

Oct. 29, 1784. — I have lately been in the almost daily 
habit of contemplating a very melancholy spectacle. The 
great Johnson is here, labouring under the paroxysms of a 
disease which must speedily be fatal. He shrinks from 
the consciousness with the extremest horror. It is by his 
repeatedly expressed desire that I visit him often: yet I 
am sure he neither does, nor ever did, feel much regard for 
me; but he would fain escape, for a time, in any society, 
from the terrible idea of his approaching dissolution. I 
never would be awed, by his sarcasm or his frowns, into 
acquiescence with his general injustice to the merits of 
other writers, with his national or party aversions; but I 
feel the truest compassion for his present sufferings, and 
fervently wish I had power to relieve them. A few days 
since I was to drink tea with him, by his request, at Mrs. 
Porter's. When I went into the room, he was in deep but 
agitated slumber, in an arm-chair. Opening the door with 
that caution due to the sick, he did not awaken at my 
entrance. I stood by him several minutes, mournfully 
contemplating the temporary suspension of those vast intel- 
lectual powers which must soon, as to this world, be eter- 
nally quenched. 



ANNA SEWARD. 329 

Upon tlie servant entering to announce the arrival of a 
gentleman of the university, introduced by Mr. White, he 
awoke with convulsive starts; — but, rising with more 
alacrity than could have been expected, he said, " Come, 
my dear lady, let you and I attend these gentlemen in the 
study." He received them with more than usual com- 
placence; but whimsically chose to get astride upon his 
chair-seat, with his face to its back, keeping a trotting 
motion as if on horseback; but, in this odd position, he 
poured forth streams of eloquence, illumined by frequent 
flashes of wit and humour, without any tincture of malig- 
nity. His memory is considerably impaired, but his elo- 
quence rolls on in its customary majestic torrent, when he 
speaks at all. My heart aches to see him labour for his 
breath, which he draws with great effort. It is not im- 
probable that this literary comet may set where it rose, and 
Lichfield receive his pale and stern remains. (*) 

(*) [" Dr. Johnson seems, in some respects, to have shared the 
fate 01 a proverbial prophet in his own country; for neither Miss 
Seward nor Dr. Darwin were partial to the great moralist." — ■ 
Sip, Walter Scott, Misccl. Prose Works, vol. iv. p. 305.] 



330 JOHNSONIANA. 



Part XXIII. 

ANECDOTES AND REMARKS, 

FROM THE MEMOIRS AND WORKS OF DR. 
PARR.(*) 



505. Recommendation of Parr. 

When Dr. Parr determined to leave Stanmore, and to 
become a candidate for the school at Colchester, he applied 
to Dr. Johnson for letters of recommendation, which were 
kindly granted, as will be seen by the following extract of 
a letter, dated Feb. 5, 1777, from Bennet Langton to Mr. 
Parr: — " Yesterday morning Mr. Paradise and I went to 
Bolt Court; and it is, I assure you, but doing justice to Dr. 
Johnson's expressions, on our application, to say, that no- 
thing could be more friendly than they were. He said he 
knew of few, if of any, that were so well entitled to'success 
as yourself in an application for presiding over a seminary 
of education; and expressed the opinion of your possessing 
all the kinds of learning requisite for that purpose, in very 
high terms of praise." 

506. Parr''s Projected Life of Johnson. 

For many years I spent a month's holidays in London, 
and never failed to call upon Johnson. I was not only 
admitted, but welcomed. I conversed with him upon 

(*) [Nos. 505 — 516, of these anecdotes are selected from the 
Life and Works of Parr, in eight vols. 8vo. 1828; edited by Dr. 
John Johnstone.] 



DR. PARR. 331 

numberless subjects of learning', politics, and common life. 
I traversed the whole compass of his understandino^; and, by 
the acknowledgement of Burke and Reynolds, I distinctly 
understood the peculiar and transcendent properties of his 
mighty and virtuous mind. I intended to write his life; I 
laid by sixty or seventy books for the purpose of writing it 
in such a manner as would do no discredit to myself. I 
intended to spread my thoughts over two volumes quarto; 
and if T had filled three pages, the rest would have fol- 
lowed. Often have I lamented my ill fortune in not build- 
ing this monument to the fame of Johnson, and let me not 
be accused of arrogance when I add, my own! (*) 

507. ''Basselas." 

Dr. Young said of Johnson's " Rasselas," that " it was 
a mass of sense." 

508. Truth. 

The following passage, from Johnson's character of 
Zachary Mudge, unites the true spirit of Christianity with 
the soundest wisdom: — " By a solicitous examination of 
objections, and judicious comparison of opposite arguments, 
he attained what inquiry never gives but to industry and 
perspicuity, — a firm and unshaken settlement of convic- 
tion. But his firmness was without asperity; for, know- 
ing with how much difficulty truth was sometimes found, 
he did not wonder that many missed it." The truth of the 
concluding sentence will be felt by every man of deep re- 
flection; and well does it become those who are not in the 
habit of reflecting deeply, to weigh its moral and religious 
importance in mitigating their prejudices, and in restraining 
their invectives, upon certain difficult and momentous sub- 
jects. Glad should I be if this opinion of Johnson's were, 
in Johnson's words, written, like the motto of Capaneus, 
" in golden letters," and hung up, not only in every dis- 
senting academy, but in every hall of every college in those 

(*} [Dr. Parr has recorded the same sentiment in the note pre- 
fixed to the list of the thirty-four works which he had set apart 
to consult in his projected Life of Dr. Johnson: — " He will ever 
have to lament that, amidst his cares, his sorrows, and his anxiety, 
he did not write the life of his learned and revered friend." — 
Bib. Parr, p. 71G.] 



332 JOHNSONIANA. 

two noble seminaries which, as Milton says of Athens and 
Spai'ta, I revere as " the eyes" of this kingdom. 

509. Whig and Tory. 

To almost every part of Johnson's distinction of a Whig 
and Tory I assent; there is no part which does not con- 
tain judicious remarks and useful information: — "A wise 
Tory and a wise Whig," he says, " will, I believe, agree. 
Their principles are the same, though their modes of think- 
ing are different. A high Tory makes government unin- 
telligible; it is lost in the clouds. A violent Whig makes 
it impracticable: he is for allowing so much liberty to every 
man, that there is not power enough to govern any man. 
The prejudice of the Tory is for establishment, the preju- 
dice of the Whig is for innovation. A Tory does not 
wish to give more real power to government, but that go- 
vernment should have more reverence. Then they differ 
as to the church. The Tory is not for giving more legal 
power to the clergy, bvit wishes they should have a consi- 
derable influence founded on the opinion of mankind: the 
Whig is for limiting and watching them with a narrow 
jealousy." 

510. Unconscious Similitudes. 

An instance of unconscious similitude between an ancient 
and a modern writer occurs at the moment to my memory, 
and as I have not seen it noticed in any book, you will ex- 
cuse me for producing it: — " Gray," says Johnson, " in his 
odes, has a kind of strutting dignity, and is tall by walking 
on tiptoe." We meet with a similar thought in Quintilian: 
— " Prima est eloquentiae virtus, perspicuitas: et quo quis- 
que ingenio minus valet, hoc se magis attollere et dilatare 
conatur; ut statura breves in digitos eriguntur, et plura in- 
firmi minantur." 

I will add another instance. Johnson said of TiOrd 
Chesterfield, " He is a wit among lords, and a lord among 
wits." But he remembered not that Pope had written — 

" A wit with dunces, and a dunce with wits." 

Neither of them, perhaps, was conscious that Quintilian 
had along ago said — " Qui stultis eruditi videri volunt, 
eruditis stulti videntur." 



DR. PARR. 333 

511. Johnson described by Gregory Nazianzen. 

The following lines I long ago read and marked in 
the " Anecdota Graeca," by Muratorius, as descriptive 
of Johnson's benevolence, of his ready pow^ers in con- 
versation, and of the instruction it conveyed to his hear- 
ers: — 

'si /Xanap m ^uvov TTEvm? axoc, IB TJ'TSflOSVTef 

Mudoi, Kal nnyh 'na.o'iv afivof^hn, 
"Ao'Bfji.aTi Travra Xi'ttej TTufxaTU, 

These lines were written by Gregory Nazianzen upon 
Amphilochus; and however untractable they may be in the 
hands of an epitaph writer, they might be managed with 
success by such a biographer as Johnson deserves, and 
perhaps has hitherto not had. 

512. English Universities. 

There are men to whom such an opponent as Dr. John- 
son, upon such a topic as the honour of Cambridge and 
Oxford, might have been an object both of " terror and 
esteem." Now, in a paper in the Idler, Johnson has 
employed quite as good sense, in quite as good English, 
for the credit of our universities, as Gibbon has since mis- 
employed for their discredit. " If literature," says he, 
" is not the essential requisite of the modern academic, 
I am yet persuaded that Cambridge and Oxford, however 
degenerated, surpass the fashionable academies of our 
metropolis, and the gymnasia of foreign countries. The 
number of learned persons in these celebrated seats is still 
considerable; and more conveniences and opportunities 
for study still subsist in them, than in any other place. 
There is, at least, one very powerful incentive to learning 
— I mean the genius of the place. This is a sort of in- 
spiring deity, which every youth of quick sensibility and 
ingenuous disposition creates to himself, by reflecting 
that he is placed under those venerable walls where a 
Hooker and a Hammond, a Bacon and a Newton, once 
pursued the same course of science, and from whence 
they soared to the most elevated heights of literary fame. 
This is that incitement which Tully, according to his own 
testimony, experienced at Athens, when he contemplated 



334 JOHNSONIANA. 

the portico where Socrates sat, and the laurel-grove where 
Plato disputed. But, there are other circumstances, and 
of the highest importance, which make our colleges supe- 
rior to all places of education. These institutions, though 
somewhat fallen from their primary simplicity, are such as 
influence, in a particular manner, the moral conduct of 
their youths; and, in this general depravity of manners 
and laxity of principles, pure religion is no Avhere more 
strongly inculcated. English universities render their stu- 
dents virtuous, at least by excluding all opportunities of 
vice; and, by teaching them the principles of the church 
of England, confirm them in those of true Christianity." 
I had reached nearly the end of my observations on Mr. 
Gibbon, before the sentiments of Dr. Johnson occurred 
to my mind. I am too discreet, too honest, and perhaps 
too proud, to be intentionally guilty of plagiarism from 
any writer whatsoever. But, I am too ingenuous to dis- 
semble the sincere and exquisite satisfaction that I feel, 
upon finding that my opinions, and even my own words, 
on the encouragement of learning, the preservation of 
morals, and the influence of religion, correspond so nearly 
with the opinions and the words of such an observer as Dr. 
Johnson, upon such a question as the merits of the English 
universities. 

513. Literary Merit. 

By the testimony of such a man as Johnson, imper- 
tinence must be abashed, and malignity itself must be 
softened. Of literary merit, as we all know, he was a 
sagacious, but a most severe judge. Such was his dis- 
cernment, that he pierced into the most secret springs 
of human actions; and such was his integrity, that he 
always weighed the moral characters of his fellow crea- 
tures in the ."balance of the sanctuary." He was too 
courageous to propitiate a rival, and too proud to truckle 
to a superior. 

514. Johnson's Funeral. 

In a letter from Charles Burney, the younger, to Dr. 
Parr, dated Dec. 21, 1784, he says, — " Yesterday I fol- 
lowed our ever to be lamented friend. Dr. Johnson, to his 
last mansion: ' Non omnis moriar — multaque pars mei 



DR. PARR. 335 

vitabit Libilinam' — should be engraven on his stone. He 
died with the same piety with which he lived; and be- 
stowed much pains during his last illness in endeavouring 
to convince some of his friends, who Avere in doubt, about 
the truth of the Christian religion. He has left behind him 
a collection of small Latin compositions in verse. They 
are principally translations of collects and Greek epigrams. 
He was followed to the Abbey by a large troop of friends. 
Ten mourning coaches were ordered by the executors for 
those invited. Besides these, eight of his friends or ad- 
mirers clubbed for two more carriages, in one of which I 
had a seat. But the executor, Sir John Hawkins, did not 
manage things well, for there was no anthem or choir ser- 
vice performed — no lesson — but merely what is read over 
every old woman that is buried by the parish. Surely, 
surely, my dear sir, this was wrong, very wrong. Dr. 
Taylor read the service — but so-so. (*) He lies nearly 
under Shakspeare's monument, with Garrick at his right 
hand, just opposite the monument erected not long ago for 
Goldsmith by him and some of his friends." 

515. Parr on Johnson'' s Churchmanship. 

" It is dangerous to be of no church," said Dr. Johnson 
— Avho believed and revered his Bible, and who saw 
through all the proud and shallow pretences of that which 
calls itself liberality, and of that which is not genuine phi- 
losophy. 

516. Parr on Johnson'' s Death. 

He Avas a writer, in whom religion and learning have 
lost one of their brightest ornaments, and whom it is not 
an act of adulation or presumption to represent as sum- 
moned to that reward, which the noblest talents, exercised 
uniformly for the most useful purposes, cannot fail to attain. 

517. Greek Accents. i^) 
Dr. Johnson, in his conversation with Dr. Parr, repeat- 

(* , [Dr. Parr, in a letter to Dr. Charles Biirney, written in Nov. 
1789, says, " Did you go to Sir Joshua Reynold's funeral.' I hope 
he had a complete service, not mutilated and dimidiated, as it was 
for poor Johnson at the Abbey — which is a great reproach to the 
lazy cattle who loll in the stalls there."] 

(t) [Communicated by Dr. John Johnstone.] 



336 JOHNSONIANA. 

edly and earnestly avowed his opinion, that accents ought 
not to be omitted by any editor of Greek authors, or any 
modern writers of Greek verse, or Greek prose. 

518. Bishop Fearce.{*) 

That Dr. Parr obtained, at an early period, a place in the 
good opinion of Dr. Johnson, appears from the circum- 
stance, that to his powerful recommendation Dr. Parr was 
chiefly indebted for his appointment to the mastership of 
the Norwich Grammar School. Indeed, he has often been 
heard to speak of their friendly interviews, even before that 
time; of which one instance occurs to me. This was in 
1777, when Bishop Pearce's " Commentary, with Notes, 
on the Four Gospels" was published, to which the well- 
known " Dedication," written by Dr. Johnson, was pre- 
fixed. Calling soon afterwards upon him, Dr. Parr men- 
tioned that he had been reading, with great delight, his 
dedication to the king. " My dedication!" exclaimed Dr. 
Johnson, " how do you know it is mine?" " For two 
reasons," replied Dr. Parr: " the first, because it is worthy 
of you; the second, because you only could write it." 

519. Johnsoti's Monument. 

When it was determined to erect a monument of John- 
son in St. Paul's Cathedral, the task of composing the 
inscription was assigned, by the public wish and voice, to 
Dr. Parr; who, however, on its first proposal, shrank with 
awe from the ai'duous undertaking. In writing to a friend, 
he thus expresses himself: — " I must leave this mighty 
task to some hardier and some abler hand. The variety 
and the splendour of Johnson's attainments, the peculiarity 
of his character, his private virtues, and his literary publi- 
cations, fill me with confusion and dismay, when I reflect 
on the confined and difficult species of composition, in 
which alone they can be expressed on his monument." 

On another occasion, speaking on the same subject — 
" I once intended to write Johnson's Life; and I had read 
through three shelves of books to prepare myself for it. 
It would have contained a view of the literature of Europe: 
and," — making an apology for the proud consciousness 

(*) [Nos. 518 and 519, from " Field's Memoirs of Dr. Parr."] 



DR. PARR. 337 

which he felt of his own ability — " If I had written it," 
continued he, " it would have been the third most learned 
work that has ever yet appeared." To explain himself, he 
afterwards added, " The most learned work ever written, 
I consider Bentley ' On the Epistles of Phalaris;' the 
next, Salmasius ' On the Hellenistic Language.' " On a 
third occasion, describing the nature of his intended work, 
and alluding to Bos well, he said, " Mine should have 
been, not the drippings of his lips, but the history of his 
mind." 

520. Imitations of Juvenal. (^^) 

Dr. Parr spoke with unbounded favour of Johnson's 
imitations of Juvenal. The lines in the third satire, — 

" Tanti tibi non sit opaci, 



Omnis arena Tagi, quodque in mare volvitur aurum, 
Ut somno careas," — 

he was fond of quoting, with Johnson's amplification of 
the sentiment: — 

" But thou, should tempting villany present 
All Marlborough hoarded, or at ViUiers spent, 
Turn from the glittering bribe thy scornful eye, 
Nor sell for gold what gold will never buy — 
The peaceful slumber, self-approving day, 
Unsullied fame, and conscience ever gay," 

521. Preface to Shakspeare. 

The Preface to Shakspeare Dr. Parr considered John- 
son's most eloquent prose composition; and he delighted 
in quoting that fine passage, where Johnson, at the close 
of his attack upon the doctrine of the Unities, says, " But 
when I think of the great authorities that are ranged on the 
other side, I am almost tempted to retire from the contest; 
as iEneas withdrew from the siege of Troy, when he saw 
Neptune shaking the walls, and Juno heading the be- 
siegers." 

(*) This and the two next articles are from " Recollections of 
Dr. Parr, by a Pupil" (the late Charles Marsh).— New Monthly 
Mag. vol. xvii. 
22 



338 JOHNSONIANA. 



522. Music. 



Talking once with Dr. Parr on the subject of dedica- 
tions, in a friend's library, he desired me to take down the 
first volume of Burney's History of Music, and to read to 
him the dedication of that work to the queen. " There," 
said he, " there is the true refinement of compliment, with- 
out adulation. In the short compass of a few lines are 
comprised no small degree of the force, and nearly all the 
graces and the harmonies, of the English language. But 
Burney did not write it; Johnson wrote it; and on this, as 
on other occasions, showed himself an accomplished cour- 
tier. Jemmy Boswell ought to haA'e known that Johnson 
wrote it. /had it from good authority; besides, it is John- 
son's internally. How truly Johnsonian is the following 
passage: — ' The science of musical sounds has been depre- 
ciated as appealing only to the ear, and aflbrding nothing 
more than a fugitive and temporary delight; but it may 
justly be considered as the art which unites corporal with 
intellectual pleasure, by a species of enjoyment which gra- 
tifies sense, without weakening reason; and which, there- 
fore, the great may cultivate without debasement, and the 
good may enjoy without depravation.' " 

523. Adventurer, No. 87.(*) 

The following observations were dictated to me by Dr. 
Parr, as he was one evening calmly smoking his pipe in 
my study. I was telling him, that two of our common 
friends had decided from internal evidence, that No. 87 in 
that work was not written by Warton, as the signature Z. 
indicated, but by Johnson. " Reach your ' Adventurer' 
from the shelves," said the Doctor, " and read the paper to 
me." When I had done so he said, " Now sit down, and 
write on the blank leaf of the volume what I shall dictate to 
you; and remember never to part with that book, nor suffer 
the leaf, which you have written, to be torn out, but pre- 
serve it as a memorial of your cordial and sincere friend, 
when I shall be numbered with the dead." What the 
Doctor dictated is as follows: — "May 19, 1808. Num- 
ber 87 of the ' Adventurer' was written by Johnson, not 

(*) [From " Parriana," by E. H. Barker, Esq., vol. i. p. 472.] 



DR. PARR. 339 

by Dr. Warton. It has internal evidence sufficient to 
show who was, and who was not, the writer. Instead of 
T. the signature of Johnson, Z., the signature of Warton, 
was by an error of the press inserted in the earher editions, 
and has since continued. Boswell, when collecting John- 
son's papers in the ' Adventurer,' looked only to the signa- 
ture T.; and not finding it to No. 87, he did not assign 
that paper to Johnson. Warton was more likely to keep 
a good account than Johnson. Dr. Wooll, in his Life of 
Warton, does not include No. 87 among the papers writ- 
ten by Warton. Dr. Parr, who gave me this information 
in May 1808, was quite satisfied with the internal evidence 
as supplied by the style and the matter. Boswell's silence 
proves nothing except his want of vigilance, or his want 
of acuteness; but Wooll's silence is decisive, more especially 
as Boswell has left the paper open to a claim from Dr. 
Warton, who happily had too much honour to appropriate 
the composition of another man." 

524. First Interview with Johnson.(^^) 

We talked of Johnson. Dr. Parr said, he had once 
begun to write a life of him; and if he had continued it, it 
would have been the best thing he had ever written. " I 
should have related not only everything important about 
Johnson, but many things about the men who flourished at 
the same time;" adding, with an expression of sly humour, 
" taking care, at the same time, to display my own learn- 
ing." He said. Dr. Johnson was an admirable scholar, 
and that he would have had a high reputation for more 
learning, if his reputation for intellect and eloquence had 
not overshadowed it; the classical scholar was forgotten 
in the great original contributor to the literature of his 
country. One of the company reminded him of his first 
interview with Dr. Johnson, as related by Mr. Langton in 
Boswell's account of his life. After the interview was over, 
Dr. Johnson said, " Parr is a fair man; I do not know 
when I have had an occasion of such free controversy; 
it is remarkable how much of a man's life may pass with- 
out meeting with any instance of this kind of open discus- 

(*) [This, and the next article are from a paper entitled "Two 
Days with Dr. Parr," in Blackwood's Mag. vol xvii. p. b90.] 



340 JOHNSONIANA. 

sion." To this remark Dr. Parr replied with great vehe- 
mence, "/ remember the interview well: / gave him no 
quarter. The subject of our dispute was the liberty of the 
press. Dr. Johnson was very great: whilst he was arguing, 
I observed that he stamped. Upon this I stamped. Dr. 
Johnson said, ' Why did you stamp, Dr. Parr?' I replied, 
' Sir, because you stamped; and I was resolved not to give 
you the advantage even of a stamp in the argument.' " It 
is impossible to do justice to his description of this scene; 
the vehemence, the characteristic pomposity, with which 
it was accompanied, may easily be imagined by those Avho 
knew him, but cannot be adequately represented to those 
who did not. 

525. Johnson's " Prayers and Meditations." {;^) 

Permit me (says Dr. Parr), as a friend to the cause of 
virtue and religion, to recommend most earnestly to read- 
ers of every class the serious perusal of Dr. Johnson's 
" Prayers and Meditations," lately published. They mark, 
by the most unequivocal and vivid proofs, the sincerity of 
his faith, the fervour of his devotion, and the warmth of 
his benevolence: they are equally intelligible, and equally 
instructive, to the learned and the unlearned: they will ani- 
mate the piety of the Christian, and put to shame the cold- 
ness and obduracy of the proud philosopher; they show 
at once the weakness and the strength of Johnson's mind; 
but that weakness melts every attentive reader into com- 
passion, and that strength impresses him with veneration. 
He that possesses both integrity of principle, and tender- 
ness of feeling — he that admires virtue, and reveres religion 
— he that glows with the love of mankind, and reposes his 
trust in God — will himself become a wiser and a better 
man from contemplating those thoughts which passed in 
the mind of one of the wisest and the best of men, when 
he communed with his own heart, and poured forth his 
supplications before the throne of Heaven for mercy and 
for grace. 

(*) fFrom the Gentleman's Magazine, vol. Iv. p. G75.] 



341 



Part XXIV. 

ANECDOTES AND REMARKS, 
BY JOSEPH BARETTI. 



526. Acquaintance with Johnson.{*) 

My connection with Dr. Johnson, though quite close and 
quite familiar, during a great number of years, was never- 
theless, like every other intimacy, subject at intervals to 
the vicissitudes of coincidence and discrepance in opinion; 
not that I ever dreamt of any equality between our powers 
of pronouncing judgment in ambiguous and questionable 
cases, but in mere consequence of that untoward cast of 
mind which often makes this and that and t'other object 
appear to Mr. Joseph of such a form, of such a size, of 
such and such a quality, when Mr. Samuel conceives them 
all to be greatly different, if not the absolute reverse. 
Not unfrequently, therefore, were our debates on divers 
topics, now of more, now of less, importance. To them, 
and to a multitude of disquisitions I heard from him on 
innumerable matters, I am indebted for the best part of 
that little knowledge I have; and if there is any kind of 
rectitude and fidelity in my ideas, I will ever remember, 
with gratitude as well as pride, that I owe more of it to 
him and to his books, than to any other man I ever knew, 
or any other books I ever studied. However, in spite 
of my obsequiousness to his great superiority, and my ready 

(*) [From Baretti's " Strictures on Signora Piozzi's publica- 
tion of Dr. Johnson's Letters.'"] 



342 JOHNSONIANA. 

submission to most of his dictates, never could I impli- 
citly adopt some few of his principal notions and leading 
opinions, though ever so ardently desirous of conforming 
all mine to those of a man, whose innate and acquired 
faculties, as far as my judgment reaches, were never 
equalled by any of his most far-famed contemporaries. 
One of the points on which my friend and I most widely 
differed, and most frequently disputed, especially during 
the last seven or eight years of his life, was certainly that 
of his Mistress's excellence, or no excellence; and every 
body knows that his Mistress, as he emphatically called 
her, was my pretty Hester Lynch, alias Mrs. Thrale, alias 
La Piozzi. 

527. Johnson and the Thrales. 

The Signora Piozzi says, that " while she remained at 
Streatham or at London, her carriage and servants were 
not entirely at her command," but at Johnson's. But, in 
the name of goodness, had she not told us, in her "Anec- 
dotes," that " the Doctor wanted as little as the gods, and 
required less attendance, sick or well, than she ever saw 
any human creature?" It is a fact, not to be denied, that, 
when at Streatham or in the Borough, Johnson wanted 
nothing else from her servants, tlian to be shaved once in 
three days, as he was almost beardless; and as for her car- 
riage, never once during the whole time of their acquaintance 
did he borrow, rnuch less command it, for any purpose of 
his own. Either she in hers, or Mr, Thrale in liis, took 
him from town to Streatham without the least inconvenience 
to either; and he was brought back generally on Saturdays 
by Mr. Thrale, who repaired every day to the Borough 
about his affairs presently after breakfast. When Johnson 
went to them or from them in town, he constantly made 
use of an hackney, and would have been greatly offended 
had Madam ever offered to order the horses out of the 
stable on his sole account. True it is, that Johnson was 
not lavish of his money when he began to have any to 
save, but he scorned to be considered as oversaving it; and 
of this we have a pretty lively proof, p. 38, vol. ii. of his 
Letters, where he rebukes Mr. Thrale for wishing to have 
him brought to Brighthelmstone by Dr. Burney, that he 
might not be at the expense of a post-chaise or of the stage- 



BARETTI. 343 

coach: ''Biirney is to bring me," says Johnson. "Pray 
why so? Is it not as fit that I should bring Burney? My 
master is in his ' old lunes,' and so am I." This asperity 
of language proves how ticklish Johnson was on the most 
distant supposition that he grudged expense when necessary. 

It is not true, that Dr. Johnson " would often not rise 
till twelve, and oblige her to make breakfast for him till the 
bell rang for dinner." It is a constant fact, that, during 
Johnson's acquaintance with the Thrale family, he got the 
habit of rising as early as other folks, nor ever made Mr. 
Thrale stay a single moment for his breakfast, knowing 
that his business called him away from the breakfast table 
about ten o'clock every morning, except Sundays; nor had 
Mr. Thrale quitted the table a moment but the Doctor 
swallowed his last cup, and Madam was at liberty to go 
about her hens and turkeys, leaving him to chat with me 
or any body else that happened to be there, or go up in his 
room, which was more usual, from whence he did not stir 
till dinner-time. 

Johnson's austere reprimands and unrestrained upbraid- 
ings, when face to face with Madam, always delighted Mr. 
Thrale, and were approved even by her children: and I 
remember to this purpose a piece of mortification she once 
underwent by a trait de naivete of poor little Harry, some 
months before he died. " Harry," said his father to him, 
on entering the room, " are you listening to what the Doc- 
tor and mamma are about?" "Yes, papa," answered the 
boy. " And," quoth Mr. Thrale, " what are they saying?" 
" They are disputing," replied Harry; " but mamma has 
just such a chance against Dr. Johnson, as Presto would 
have if he were to fight Dash." Dash was a large dog, 
and Presto but a little one. The laugh this innocent ob- 
servation produced was so very loud and hearty, that 
Madam, unable to stand it, quitted the room in such a mood 
as was still more laughable than the boy's pertinent remark, 
though she muttered " it was very impertinent." How- 
ever, a short turn in the pleasure-ground soon restored 
her to her usual elasticity, made her come back to give us 
tea, and the puny powers of Presto were mentioned no 
more. 



344 JOHNSONIANA. 

528. BareUVs Rupture with Dr. Johnson. (*) 

My story may be a lesson to eager mortals to mistrust 
the duration of any worldly enjoyment; as even the best 
cemented friendship, which I consider as the most precious 
of earthly blessings, is but a precarious one, and subject, 
like all the rest, to be blasted away in an unexpected 
moment, by the capriciousness of chance, and by some 
one of those trifling weaknesses, unaccoimtably engrafted 
even in the noblest minds that ever showed to what a 
pitch human nature may be elevated. About thirteen 
months before Dr. Johnson went the way of all flesh, my 
visits to him grew to be much less frequent than they 
used to be, on account of my gout and other infirmities, 
which permitted not my going very often from Edward 
Street, Cavendish Square, to Bolt Court, Fleet Street, as 
it had been the case in my better days; yet, once or twice 
every month, I never failed to go to him; and he was al- 
ways glad to see " the oldest friend he had in the world;" 
which, since Garrick's death, was the appellation he 
honoured me with, and constantly requested me to see 
him as often as I could. One day — and, alas! it was 
the last time I saw him — I called on him, not without 
some anxiety, as I had heard that he had been very ill; 
but found him so well as to be in very high spirits; of 
which he soon made me aware, because, the conversation 
happening to turn about Otaheite, he recollected that 
Omiah had often conquered me at chess; a subject on 
which, whenever chance brought it about, he never failed 
to rally me most unmercifully, and made himself mighty 
merry with. This time, more than he had ever done 
before, he pushed his banter on at such a rate, that at last 
he chafed me, and made me so angry, that, not being able 
to put a stop to it, I snatched up my hat and stick, and 
quitted him in a most choleric mood. The skilful trans- 
lator of Tasso, Mr. Hoole, who was a witness to that ridi- 
culous scene, may tell whether the Doctor's obstreperous 
merriment deserved approbation or blame; but, such was 
Johnson, that, whatever was the matter in hand, if he was 



(*) [From " Tolondron: Speeches to John Bowie, about his 
edition of Don Cluixote," 1786.] 



BARETTI. 345 

in the humour, he would carry it as far as he could; nor 
was he much in the habit, even with much higher folks 
than myself, to refrain from sallies which, not seldom, 
would carry him further than he intended. Vexed at his 
having given me cause to be angry, and at my own anger 
too, I was not in haste to see him again; and he heard, 
from more than one, that my resentment continued. Find- 
ing, at last, or supposing, that I might not call upon him 
any more, he requested a respectable friend to tell me that 
he would be glad to see me as soon as possible; but this 
message was delivered me while making ready to go into 
Sussex, where I staid a month longer; and it was on my 
leaving Sussex, that the newspapers apprised me my friend 
was no more, and England had lost possibly the greatest 
of her literary ornaments. (*) 

(*) [The interesting memoir of Baretti, in the Gentleman's 
Magazine for May, 1789, drawn up by Vincent, concludes thus: — 
"It was not distress that compelled Baretti to take refuge in the 
hospitality of Mr. Thrale, as has been suggested. He had lately 
received five hundred pounds for his Spanish " Travels," but was 
induced by Dr. Johnson (contrary to his determination, of never 
becoming a teacher of languages) to undertake the instruction of 
Mr. Thrale's daughters in Italian. He was either nine or eleven 
years almost entirely in that family, though he still rented a 
lodging in town; during which period he expended his own five 
hundred pounds, and received nothing in return for his instruc- 
tion, but the participation of a good table, and a hundred and 
fifty pounds by way of presents. Instead of his ' Strictures on 
Signora Piozzi,' had he told this plain unvarnished tale, he would 
have convicted that lady of avarice and ingratitude, without in- 
curring the danger of a reply, or exposing his memory lo be in- 
sulted by her advocates."] 



346 JOHNSONIANA. 



Part XXV. 

ANECDOTES AND REMARKS, 
BY BISHOP PERCY. (*) 



529. Stourbridge School. 

Sir John Hawkins is not correct in saying that John- 
son, in early life, had not been accustomed to the conver- 
sation of gentlemen. His genius was so distinguished, 
that, although little more than a schoolboy, he was admit- 
ted to the best company, both at Lichfield and Stourbridge; 
and, in the latter neighbourhood, had met even with 
George, afterwards Lord Lyttelton; with whom having 
some colloquial disputes, he is supposed to have conceived 
that prejudice which so improperly influenced him in the 
Life of that worthy nobleman. But this could scarcely 
have happened when he was a boy of fifteen; and, there- 
fore, it is probable he occasionally visited Stourbridge, dur- 
ing his residence at Birmingham, before he removed to 
London. 

530. Personal Peculiarities. 

Johnson's countenance, when in a good humour, was 
not disagreeable. His face clear, his complexion good, 
and his features not ill formed; many ladies have thought 
they might not have been unattractive when he was young. 

(*) [From communications made by Bishop Percy to Dr. Robert 
Anderson.] 



BISHOP PERCY. 347 

Much misrepresentation has prevailed on this subject, 
among such as did not personally know him. 

That he had some whimsical peculiarities of the nature 
described by Mr. Boswell, is certainly true; but there is no 
reason to believe they proceeded from any superstitious 
motives, wherein religion was concerned: they are rather 
to be ascribed to the " mental distempers" to which Bos- 
well has so repeatedly alluded. 

Jobnson was so extremely short-sighted, that he had no 
conception of rural beauties; and, therefore, it is not to 
be wondered, that he should prefer the conversation of the 
metropolis to the silent groves and views of Hampstead 
and Greenwich; which, however delightful, he could not 
see. In his Tour through the Highlands of Scotland, he 
has somewhere observed, that one mountain Avas like an- 
other; so utterly unconscious was he of the wonderful 
variety of sublime and beautiful scenes those mountains 
exhibited. I was once present when the case of a gentle- 
man was mentioned, who, having, with great taste and 
skill, formed the lawns and plantations about his house into 
most beautiful landscapes, to complete one part of the 
scenery, was obliged to apply for leave to a neighbour with 
whom he was not upon cordial terms; when Johnson made 
the following remark, which at once shows Avhat ideas he 
had of landscape improvement, and how happily he ap- 
plied the most common incidents to moral instruction. 
" See how inordinate desires enslave a man! No desire 
can be more innocent than to have a pretty garden, yet, 
indulged to excess, it has made this poor man submit to 
beg a favour of his enemy." 

531. Johnson'' s Manner of Composing. 

Johnson's manner of composing has not been rightly 
understood. He was so extremely short-sighted, from the 
defect in his eyes, that writing was inconvenient to him; 
for, whenever he wrote, he was obliged to hold the paper 
close to his face. He, therefore, never composed what Ave 
call a foul draft on paper of anything he published, but 
used to revolve the subject in his mind, and turn and form 
every period, till he had brought the Avhole to the highest 
correctness and the most perfect arrangement. Then his 
uncommonly retentive memory enabled him to deliver a 



348 JOHNSONIANA. 

whole essay, properly finished, whenever it was called for. 
I have often heard him humming and forming periods, in 
low whispers to himself, when shallow observers thought 
he was muttering prayers, &c. But Johnson is well known 
to have represented his own practice, in the following 
passage in his Life of Pope: " Of composition there are 
different methods. Some employ at once memory and 
invention; and, with little intermediate use of the pen, form 
and polish large masses by continued meditation, and write 
their productions only when, in their own opinion, they 
have completed them." 

532. Dislike of Swift. 

The extraordinary prejudice and dislike of Swift, mani- 
fested on all occasions by Johnson, whose political opin- 
ions coincided exactly with his, has been difficult to 
account for; and is therefore attributed to his failing in 
getting a degree, which Swift might not choose to solicit, 
for a reason given below. The real cause is believed to 
be as follows: The Rev. Dr. Madden, who distinguished 
himself so laudably by giving premiums to the young stu- 
dents of Dublin College, for which he had raised a fund, 
by applying for contributions to the nobility and gentry of 
Ireland, had solicited the same from Swift, when he was 
sinking into that morbid idiocy which only terminated with 
his life, and was saving every shilling to found his hospital 
for lunatics; but his application was refused with so little 
delicacy, as left in Dr. Madden a rooted dislike to Swift's 
character, which he communicated to Johnson, whose 
friendship he gained on the following occasion: Dr. Mad- 
den wished to address some person of high rank, in prose 
or verse; and, desirous of having his composition examined 
and corrected by some writer of superior talents, had been 
recommended to Johnson, who was at that time in extreme 
indigence; and having finished his task, would probably 
have thought himself well rewarded with a guinea or two, 
when to his great surprise, Dr. Madden generously slipped 
ten guineas into his hand. This made such an impression 
on Johnson, as led him to adopt every opinion of Dr. Mad- 
den, and to resent, as warmly as himself. Swift's rough 
refusal of the contribution; after which the latter could not 
decently request any favour from the University of Dublin. 



BISHOP PERCY. 349 

533. The Dictionary. 

The account of the manner in which Johnson compiled 
his Dictionary, as given by Mr. Boswell, is confused and 
erroneous, and a moment's reflection will convince every 
person of judgment, could not be correct; for, to write 
down an alphabetical arrangement of all the words in the 
English language, and then hunt through the whole com- 
pass of English literature for all their different significa- 
tions, would have taken the whole life of any individual; 
but Johnson, who, among other peculiarities of his cha- 
racter, excelled most men in contriving the best means to 
accomplish any end, devised the following mode for com- 
pleting his Dictionary, as he himself expressly described to 
the writer of this account. He began his task by devoting 
his first care to a diligent perusal of all such English wri- 
ters as were most correct in their language, and under 
every sentence which he meant to quote, he drew a line, 
and noted in the margin the first letter of the word under 
which it Avas to occur. He then delivered these books to 
his clerks, who transcribed each sentence on a separate 
slip of paper, and arranged the same under the word re- 
ferred to. By these means he collected the several words 
and their different significations; and when the whole 
arrangement was alphabetically formed, he gave the defini- 
tions of their meanings, and collected their etymologies 
from Skinner, Junius, and other writers on the subject. In 
completing his alphabetical arrangement, he, no doubt, 
would recur to former dictionaries, to see if any words had 
escaped him; but this, which Mr. Boswell makes the first 
step in the business, was in reality the last; and it was 
doubtless to this happy arrangement that Johnson effected 
in a few years, what employed the foreign academies 
nearly half a century. 

534. Miss Williams. 

During the summer of 1764, Johnson paid a visit to me, 
at my vicarage-house in Easton-Mauduit, near Welling- 
borough, in Northamptonshire, and spent parts of the 
months of June, July, and August with me, accompanied 
by his friend Miss Williams, whom Mrs. Percy found a 
very agreeable companion. As poor Miss Williams, whose 



350 JOHNSONIANA. 

history is so connected with that of Johnson, has not had 
common justice done her by his biographers, it may be 
proper to mention, that, so far from being a constant source 
of disquiet and vexation to him, although she had been 
totally blind for the last thirty years of her life, her mind 
was so well cultivated, and her conversation so agreeable, 
that she very much enlivened and diverted his solitary 
hours; and, though there may have happened some slight 
disagreements between her and Mrs. Desmoulins, which, 
at the moment, disquieted him, the friendship of Miss Wil- 
liams contributed very much to his comfort and happiness. 
For, having been the intimate friend of liis wife, who had 
invited her to his house, she continued to reside with him, 
and in her he had always a conversable companion; who, 
whether at his dinners or at his tea-table, entertained his 
friends with her sensible conversation. Being extremely 
clean and neat in her person and habits, she never gave 
the least disgust by her manner of eating; and when she 
made tea for Johnson and his friends, conducted it with so 
much delicacy, by gently touching the outside of the cup, 
to feel, by the heat, the tea as it ascended within, that it 
was rather matter of admiration than of dislike to every 
attentive observer. 

535. Truth. 

Johnson was fond of disputation, and willing to see what 
could be said on each side of the question, when a subject 
was argued. At all other times, no man had a more scru- 
pulous regard for truth; from which, I verily believe, he 
would not have deviated to save his life. 

536. Robert Levett. 

Mr. Boswell describes Jjcvett as a man of a strange gro- 
tesque appearance, stiff and formal in his manner. This is 
misrepresented. He was a modest, reserved man; humble 
and unaffected; ready to execute any commission for John- 
son; and grateful for his patronage. 

537. Mr. Thrale. 

Of Mr. Thrale, Johnson has given a true character in a 
Latin epitaph, inscribed on his monument in Streatham 



BISHOP PERCY. 351 

church. (*) This most amiable and worthy gentleman cer- 
tainly deserved every tribute of gratitude from the Doctor 
and his literary friends; Avho were always welcome at his 
hospitable table. It must therefore give us great concern 
to see his origin degraded by any of them, in a manner that 
might be extremely injurious to his elegant and accomplished 
daughters, if it could not be contradicted; for his father is 
represented to have been a common drayman; whereas, he 
was well known to have been a respectable citizen, who 
increased a fortune, originally not contemptible, and proved 
his mind had been always liberal, by giving a superior edu- 
cation to his son. 

538. ''The Rambler r 

Mr. Boswell objects to the title of " Rambler," which 
he says, was ill suited to a series of grave and moral dis- 
courses, and is translated into Italian, " II Vagabondo," 
as also because the same title was afterwards given to a 
licentious magazine. These are curious reasons. But, in 
the first place, Mr. Boswell assumes, that Johnson intended 
only to write a series of papers on " grave and moral" sub- 
jects; whereas, on the contrary, he meant this periodical 
paper should be open for the reception of every subject, 
serious or sprightly, solemn or familiar, moral or amusing; 
and therefore endeavoured to find a title as general and 
unconfined as possible. He acknowledged, that " The 
Spectator" was the most happily chosen of all others, and 
" The Tatler" the next to it; and after long consideration 
how to fix a third title, equally capacious and suited to his 
purpose, he suddenly thought upon " The Rambler;"(t) 
and it would be difficult to find any other that so exactly 
coincided with the motto he has adopted in the title-page, — 

" duo me cunque rapit tempestas deferor hospes." 

539. Fear of Death. 

Mr. Boswell states, that " Dr. Johnson's conduct, after 
he had associated with Savage and others, was not so 

(*) [Seejjosf, No. G98.] 

(t) [A paper, entitled " The Rambler," appeared in 1712. Only- 
one number of it seems to have escaped the ravages of lime: this 
is in the British Museum.] 



352 JOHNSONIANA. 

Strictly virtuous, in one respect, as when he was a younger 
man." This seems to have been suggested by Mr. Bos- 
well, to account for Johnson's religious terrors on the ap- 
proach of death; as if they proceeded from his having been 
led by Savage to vicious indulgences with the women of 
the town, in his nocturnal rambles. This, if true, Johnson 
was not likely to have confessed to Mr. Boswell, and 
therefore must be received as a pure invention of his own. 
But if Johnson ever conversed with those unfortunate 
females, it is believed to have been in order to reclaim them 
from their dissolute life, by moral and religious impressions; 
for to one of his friends he once related a conversation of 
that sort which he had with a young female in the street, 
and that, asking her what she thought she was made for, 
her reply was, " she supposed to please the gentlemen." 
His friend intimating his surprise, that he should have had 
communications with street-walkers, implying a suspicion 
that they were not of a moral tendency, Johnson expressed 
the highest indignation that any other motive could ever be 
suspected. 



353 



Part XXVI. 

ANECDOTES AND REMARKS, 
BY LADY KNIGHT. (*) 



540. Mrs. Johnson. 

Mrs. Williams's account of Johnson's wife was, that 
she had a good understanding and great sensibility, but 
inclined to be satirical. Her first husband died insolvent: 
her sons were much disgusted with her for her second 
marriage; perhaps because they, being stniggling to get 
advanced in life, were mortified to think she had allied 
herself to a man who had not any visible means of being 
useful to them. However, she always retained her affec- 
tion for them. While they resided in Gough Court, her 
son, the officer, knocked at the door, and asked the maid 
if her mistress was at home? She answered, " Yes, sir; 
but she is sick in bed." " O!" says he, "if it is so, tell 
her that her son Jervas called to know how she did;" 
and was going away. The maid begged she might run 
up to tell her mistress, and, without attending his answer, 
left him. Mrs. Johnson, enraptured to hear her son was 
below, desired the maid to tell him she longed to embrace 
him. When the maid descended, the gentleman was gone, 
and poor Mrs. Johnson was much agitated by the adven- 

(*) [From a paper transmitted by Lady Knight, at Rome, to Mr. 
Hoole. Lady Knight was the mother of Miss Cornelia Knight, 
the accomplished author of " Dinarbas," "Marcus Flaminius," 
and other ingenious works. See Boswell, vol. i. p. 275; and vol. 
iii. p. 9.] 
23 



354 JOHNSONIANA. 

ture; it was the only time he ever made an effort to see 
her. Dr. Johnson did all he could to console his wife; 
but told Mrs. Williams, " Her son is uniformly undutiful; 
so I conclude, like many other sober men, he might once 
in his life be drunk, and in that fit nature got the better of 
his pride." 

541. Mrs. Williams. 

Mrs. Williams was never otherwise dependent on Dr. 
Johnson, than in that sort of association, which is little 
known in the great world. They both had much to 
struggle through; and I verily believe, that whichever held 
the purse, the other partook what want required. She 
was, in respect to morals, more rigid than modern polite- 
ness admits; for she abhorred vice, and was not sparing of 
anger against those who threw young folks into temptation. 
Her ideas were very just in respect to the improvement of 
the mind, and her own was well stored. I have several of 
her letters: they are all written with great good sense and 
simplicity, and with a tenderness and affection, that far 
excel all that is called politeness and elegance. I have 
been favoured witli her company some weeks at different 
times, and always found her temper equal, and her con- 
versation lively. I never passed hours with more pleasure 
than when I heard her and Dr. Johnson talk of the persons 
they valued, or upon subjects in which they were much 
interested. One night I remember Mrs. Williams was 
giving an account of the Wilkinsons being at Paris, and 
having had consigned to their care the letters of Lady 
Wortley Montagu, on which they had bestowed great 
praise. The Doctor said, " Why, madam, there might be 
great charms to them in being intrusted with honourable 
letters; but those who knew better of the world, would 
have rather possessed two pages of true history." One 
day that he came to my house to meet many others, we 
told him that we had arranged our party to go to West- 
minster Abbey, would not he go with us? " No," he re- 
plied; " not while I can keep out." Upon our saying, 
that the friends of a lady had been in great fear least she 
should make a certain match for herself, he said, " We 
that are his friends have had great fears for him." I talked 
to Mrs. Thrale much of dear Mrs. Williams. She said 



LADY KNIGHT. 355 

she was highly born; that she was very nearly related to a 
Welsh peer; but that, though Dr. Johnson had always 
pressed her to be acquainted with her, yet she could not; 
she was afraid of her. I named her virtues; she seemed to 
hear me as if I had spoken of a newly discovered country. 

542. Johnson's Character. 

I think the character of Dr. Johnson can never be better 
summed up than in his own words in " Rasselas," chapter 
42. He was master of an infinite deal of wit, which pro- 
ceeded from depth of thought, and of a humour which he 
used sometimes to take off" from the asperity of reproof. 
Though he did frequently utter very sportive things, which 
might be said to be playing upon the folly of some of his 
companions, and though he never said one that could dis- 
grace him, yet I think, now that he is no more, the care 
should be to prove his steady uniformity in wisdom, virtue, 
and religion. His political principles ran high, both in 
church and state: he wished power to the king and to the 
heads of the church, as the laws of England have estab- 
lished; but I know he disliked absolute power, and I am 
very sure of his disapprobation of the docti'ines of the 
church of Rome; because, about three weeks before we 
came abroad, he said to my Cornelia, " You are going 
where the ostentatious pomp of church ceremonies attracts 
the imagination; but, if they want to persuade you to 
change your religion, you must remember, that, by in- 
creasing your faith, you may be persuaded to become a 
Turk." If these were not the words, I have kept up to 
the express meaning. 



356 JOHNSONIANA. 



Part XXVII. 

ANECDOTES, 
BY MR. STOCKDALE.(*) 



543. Sivift.—The Tale of a Tub. 

About the year 1770, I was invited by the lively and 
hospitable Tom Davies to dine with him, to meet some 
interesting characters. Dr. Johnson was of the party, and 
this was my first introduction to him: there were others, 
with whom every intelligent mind would have wished to 
converse, — Dr. Goldsmith and Mr. Meyer, the elegant 
miniature painter. Swift was one of our convivial subjects; 
of whom it was Dr. Johnson's invariable custom to speak 
in a disparaging manner. We gave our sentiments, and 
undoubtedly of high panegyric, on the Tale of a Tub; of 
which Dr. Johnson insisted, in his usual positive manner, 
that it was impossible that Swift should have been the 
author, it was so eminently superior to all his other works. 
I expressed my own conviction, that it was written by 
Swift, and that, in many of his productions, he showed a 
genius not unequal to the composition of the Tale of a Tub. 
The Doctor desired me to name one. I replied, that I 
thought Gulliver's Travels not unworthy of the perform- 
ance he so exclusively admired. He would not admit 

f*)[From "Memoirs of the Life and Writings of Perceval 
Stockdale," 2 vols. 8vo. 1809. To this gentleman, the " Belfield" 
of Miss Burney's "Cecilia," Johnson was, upon several occasions, 
a kind protector. He was, for some years, the Doctor's neigh- 
bour, both in Johnson's Court and Bolt Court.] 



STOCKDALE. 357 

the instance; but said, that " If Swift was really the author 
of the Tale of a Tub, as the best of his other performances 
were of a very inferior merit, he should have hanged him- 
self after he had written it." 

544. The Journal to Stella. 

Johnson said on the same day, " Swift corresponded 
minutely with Stella and Mrs. Dingley, on his importance 
with the ministry, from excessive vanity — that the women 
might exclaim, ' What a great man Dr. Swift is!' " 

545. Warburton. 

Among other topics, Warburton claimed our attention. 
Goldsmith took a part against Warburton, whom Johnson 
strenuously defended, and, indeed, with many strong argu- 
ments, and with bright sallies of eloquence. Goldsmith 
ridiculously asserted, that Warburton was a weak writer. 
This misapplied characteristic Dr. Johnson refuted. I 
shall never forget one of the happy metaphors with which 
he strengthened and illustrated his refutation. " War- 
burton," said he, "maybe absurd, but he will never be 
weak: \\e flounders well." 

546. Johnsori's Cat. 

If I wanted the precedents, examples, and authority of 
celebrated men, to warrant my humble regard and affection 
for a cat, either in my boyish or maturer years (that useful, 
and indeed amiable, but infamously harassed and persecuted 
creature), those precedents I might easily produce. Mon- 
taigne has recorded his cat, in his usual facetiousness, but 
in an affectionate manner. And as the insolence of Achilles, 
and the sternness of Telamonian Ajax, were subdued by 
a Briseis and a Tecmessa, I have frequently seen the rug- 
gedness of Dr. Johnson softened to smiles and caresses, by 
the inarticulate, yet pathetic, expressions of his favourite 
Hodge. 

547. Charles the Twelfth. 

Charles the Twelfth was guilty of a deed which will 
eternally shade the glory of one of the most splendid periods 
that are presented to us in history — the murder of Patkal. 
Dr. Johnson remarked to me, when we were conversing 



358 JOHNSONIANA. 

on this tragical subject, that Charles had nine years of good 
and nine of bad fortune; that his adverse events began soon 
after the execution of Patkal, and continued to his death. 
Johnson may be pronounced to have been superstitious; 
but I own that I was sensibly struck with the force of the 
observation. 

548. Pope's Homer. 

Lord Lyttelton told me, that on a visit to Mr. Pope, 
while he was translating the Iliad, he took the liberty to 
express to that great poet his surprise, that he had not 
determined to translate Homer's poem into blank verse; as 
it was an epic poem, and as he had before him the illus- 
trious example of Milton, in the Paradise Lost. Mr. Pope's 
answer to Lord Lyttelton was, that " he could translate it 
more easily into rhyme." I communicated this anecdote 
to Dr. Johnson: his remark to me was, I think, very erro- 
neous in criticism, — " Sir, when Pope said that, he knew 
that he lied." 

549. Garrick. 

When Dr. Johnson and I were talking of Garrick, I 
observed, that he was a very moderate, fair, and pleasing 
companion; Avhen we considered what a constant influx 
had flowed upon him, both of fortune and fame, to throw 
him off his bias of moral and social self-government. 
" Sir," replied Johnson, in his usual emphatical and glowing 
manner, " you are very right in your remark; Garrick has 
undoubtedly the merit of a temperate and unassuming be- 
haviour in society; for more pains have been taken to spoil 
that fellow, than if he had been heir apparent to the empire 
ofLidia." 

When Garrick was one day mentioning tome Dr. John- 
son's illiberal treatment of him, on different occasions; " I 
question," said he, " whether, in his calmest and most 
dispassionate moments, he would allow me the high the- 
ati'ical merit which the public have been so generous as to 
attribute to me." I told him, that I would take an early 
opportunity to make the trial, and that I would not fail to 
inform him of the result of my experiment. As I had rather 
an active curiosity to put Johnson's disinterested generosity 
fairly to the test, on this apposite subject, I took an early 



STOCKDALE. 359 

opportunity of waiting on him, to hear his verdict on Gar- 
rick's pretensions to his great and universal fame. I found 
him in very good and social humour; and I began a conver- 
sation which naturally led to the mention of Garrick. I 
said something particular on his excellence as an actor; and 
I added, " But pray, Dr. Johnson, do you really think that 
he deserves that illustrious theatrical character, and that 
prodigious fame, which he has acquired?" " Oh, sir," 
said he, " he deserves everything that he has acquired, for 
having seized the very soul of Shakspeare; for having em- 
bodied it in himself; and for having extended its glory over 
the world." I was not slow in communicating to Garrick 
the answer of the Delphic oracle. The tear started in his 
eye — " Oh! Stockdale," said he, " such a praise from such 
a man! — this atones for all that has passed." 

550. Intoxication. 

I called on Dr. Johnson one morning, when Mrs. Wil- 
liams, the blind lady, was conversing with him. She was 
telling him where she had dined the day before. " There 
were several gentlemen there," said she, " and when some 
of them came to the tea-table, I found that there had been 
a good deal of hard drinking." She closed this observation 
with a common and trite moral reflection; which, indeed, 
is very ill-founded, and does great injustice to animals — "I 
wonder what pleasure men can take in making beasts of 
themselves!" " I wonder, madam," replied the Doctor, 
" that you have not penetration enough to see the strong 
inducement to this excess; for he who makes a beast of 
himself gets rid of the pain of being a man." 

551. Mrs. Bruce. 

Mrs. Bruce, an old Scotch lady, the widow of Captain 
Bruce, who had been for many years an officer in the 
Russian service, drank tea with me one afternoon at my 
lodgings in Bolt Court, when Johnson was one of the 
company. She spoke very broad Scotch; and this alarmed 
me for her present social situation. " Dr. Johnson," said 
she, " you tell us, in your Dictionary, that in England 
oats are given to horses; but that in Scotland they support 
the people. Now, sir, I can assure you, that in Scotland 



360 JOHNSONIANA. 

we give oats to our horses, as well as you do to yours in 
England." I almost trembled for the widow of the Russian 
hero; I never saw a more contemptuous leer than that 
which Johnson threw at Mrs. Bruce. However, he deigned 
her an answer, — " I am very glad, madam, to find that you 
treat your horses as well as you treat yourselves." I was 
delivered from my panic, and I wondered that she was so 
gently set down. 



361 



Part XXVIII. 

ANECDOTES, 
BY MISS HAWKINS.(*) 



552. Johnson's Person and Dress. 

When first I remember Johnson, I used to see him some- 
times at a little distance from the house, coming to call on 
my father; his look directed downwards, or rather in such 
abstraction as to have no direction. His walk was heavy, 
but he got on at a great rate, his left arm always placed 
across his breast, so as to bring the hand under his chin; 
and he walked wide, as if to support his weight. Got out 
of a hackney coach, which had set him down in Fleet-Street, 
my brother Henry says, he made his way up Bolt Court in 
the zig-zag direction of a blast of lightning; submitting 
his course only to the deflections imposed by the impossi- 
bility of going further to right or left. 

His clothes hung loose, and the pocket on the right hand 
swung violently, the lining of his coat being always visible. 
I can now call to mind his brown hand, his metal sleeve- 
buttons, and my surprise at seeing him with plain wrist- 
bands, when all gentlemen wore rufl3.es: his coat-sleeve 
being very wide, showed his linen almost to his elbow, (t) 

(*) [From " Memoirs, Anecdotes, Facts, and Opinions, collected 
by Letitia Matilda Hawkins" (daughter of Sir John), 2 vols. 
12mo. 1824.] 

(+) [The accompanying whole-length portrait of Johnson, from 
an original painting in the possession of Mr. Archdeacon Cam- 
bridge, the son of the Doctor's friend, Richard Owen Cambridge, 



362 JOHNSONIAN A. 

In his colloquial intercourse, Johnson's compliments 
were studied, and therefore lost their effect: his head 
dipped lower; the semicircle in which it revolved Avas of 
greater extent; and his roar Avas deeper in its tone when 
he meant to be civil. His movement in reading, which he 
did with great rapidity, was humorously described after 
his death, by a lady, who said, that " his head swung 
seconds." 

The usual initial sentences of his conversation led some 
to imagine that to resemble him was as easy as to mimic 
him, and that, if they began with " Why, sir," or " I know 
no reason," or "If any man chooses to think," or "If you 
mean to say," they must, of course, " talk Johnson." — 
That his style might be imitated, is true; and that its strong 
features made it .easier to lay hold on it than on a milder 
style, no one will dispute. 

553. The Economy of Bolt Court. 

What the economy of Dr. Johnson's house may have 
been under his wife's administration, I cannot tell; but, 
under Miss Williams's management, and indeed, after- 
wards, when he was overcome at the misery of those 
around him, it always exceeded my expectation, as far as 
the condition of the apartment into which I was admitted 
could enable me to judge. It was not, indeed, his study: 
amongst his books he probably miglat bring Magliabecchi 
to recollection; but I saw him only in the decent drawing- 
room of a house, not inferior to others on the same local 
situation, and with stout old-fashioned mahogany table and 
chairs. He was a liberal customer to his tailor, and I can 
remember that his linen was often a strong contrast to the 
colour of his hands. 

554. Bennet Langton. 

On one occasion, I remember Johnson's departing from 
his gentleness towards Mr. Langton, and in his irritation 
showing some inconsistency of ideas. I went with my 
father to call in Bolt Court one Sunday after church. 

Esq. of Twickenham, " was considered," says the proprietor, " by 
all who knew him, to be an exact representation of his figure, ap- 
pearance, and action."] 



MISS HAWKINS. 363 

There Avere many persons in the Doctor's drawing-room, 
and among them Mr. Langton, who stood leaning against 
the post of an open door, undergoing what I suppose the 
giver of it would have called an " objurgation." Johnson, 
on my father's entrance, went back to explain the cause of 
this, which was no less than that Mr. Langton, in his opi- 
nion, ought then to have been far on his road into Lincoln- 
shire, where he was informed his mother was very ill. 
Mr, Langton's pious affection for his mother could not be 
doubted, — she was a parent of whom any son might have 
been proud; but this was a feeling which never could have 
been brought into the question by her son: the inert spirit, 
backed, perhaps, by hope, and previous knowledge of the 
extent of similar attacks, prevailed; and Johnson's argu- 
ments seemed hitherto rather to have riveted Mr. Lang- 
ton's feet to the place where he was, than to have spurred 
him to quit it. My father, thus referred to, took up the 
subject, and a few half-whispered sentences from him made 
Mr. Langton take his leave; but, as he was quitting the 
room, Johnson, with one of his howls, and his indescri- 
bable, but really pathetic slow semi-circuits of his head, 
said most energetically, " Do, Hawkins, teach Langton a 
little of the world." 

555. Mrs. Thrale. 

On the death of Mr. Thrale, it was concluded by some, 
that Johnson would marry the widow; by others, that he 
would entirely take up his residence in her house; which, 
resembling the situation of many other learned men, would 
have been nothing extraordinary or censurable. The path 
he would pursue was not evident; when, on a sudden, he 
came out again, and sought my father with kind eagerness. 
Calls were exchanged: he would now take his tea with 
us; and in one of those evening visits, which were the 
pleasantest periods of my knowledge of him, saying, when 
taking leave, that he was leaving London, Lady Hawkins 
said, " I suppose you are going to Bath?" " Why should 
you suppose so?" said he. " Because," said my mother, 
" I hear Mrs. Thrale is gone there." " I know nothing 
of Mrs. Thrale," he roared out; " good evening to you." 
The state of affairs was soon made known. 



364 JOHNSONIANA. 

556. Warhurton. 

To Warburton's great powers he did full justice. He 
did not always, my brother says, agree with him in his 
notions; " but," said he, " with all his errors, si non er- 
rassef,fecerot ille minus.^^ Speaking of Warburton's con- 
temptuous treatment of some one Avho presumed to differ 
from him, I heard him repeat with much glee the coarse 
expressions in which he had vented this feeling, that there 
could be no doubt of his hearty approbation. 

557. Sex. 

He said, he doubted whether there ever was a man who 
was not gratified by being told that he was liked by thfi 
women. 

558. Beading and Study. 

Speaking of reading and study, my younger brother 
heard him say, that he would not ask a man to give up his 
important interests for them, because it would not be fair; 
but that, if any man would employ in reading that time 
which he would otherwise waste, he would answer for it, 
if he were a man of ordinary endowment, that he would 
make a sensible man. " He might not," said he, " make a 
Bentley, but he would be a sensible man." 

559. Thurloiv. — Burke. — Boswell. 

It may be said of Johnson, that he had a peculiar in- 
dividual feeling of regard towards his many and various 
friends, and that he was to each what I might call the in- 
denture or counterpart of what they were to him My 
brother says, that any memoirs of his conversations with 
Lord Thurlow or Burke would be invaluable: to the former 
he acknowledged that he always " talked his best;" and 
the latter would, by the force of his own powers, have 
tried those of Johnson to the utmost. But still the in- 
quisitive world, that world whose inquisitiveness has 
tempted almost to sacrilege, would not have been satisfied 
without the minor communications of Boswell, though he 
sometimes sorely punctured his friend to get at what he 
wanted. 



MISS HAWKINS. 365 

5G0. Complainers. 

It is greatly to the honour of Johnson, that he never 
accustomed himself to descant on the ingratitude of man- 
kind, or to comment on the many causes he had to think 
harshly of the world.. He said once to my youngest brother, 
" I hate a complainer." This hatred might preserve him 
from the habit. 

561. Envy.'^Dr. Taylor. 

Johnson was, with all his infirmities, bodily and mental, 
less of the thorough-bred irritabile genus, of authors, than 
most of his compeers: he had no petty feelings of animo- 
sity, to be traced only to mean causes. He said of some 
one, indeed, that he was " a good hater," as if he approved 
the feeling; but I understand by the expression, that it 
was at least a justifiable, an honest and avowed aversion, 
that obtained this character for its possessor. But still 
more to his honour is it, that his irritability was not 
excited by the most common cause of mortification. He 
saw the companion of his studies and the witness of his 
poverty, Taylor, raised by the tide of human affairs to 
bloating affluence, and, I should presume, with pretensions 
of every kind, far, very far inferior to his: yet I do not 
recollect having ever heard of a sigh excited by his dis- 
parity of lot. That he envied Garrick, while he loved 
and admired him, is true; but it was under the pardonable 
feeling of jealousy, in seeing histrionic excellence so much 
more highly prized, than that Avhich he knew himself to 
possess. 

562. ReynolcWs ^'^ Discourses." 

On Johnson's death, Mr. Langton said to Sir John 
Hawkins, " We shall now know whether he has or has 
not assisted Sir Joshua in his ' Discourses;' " but Johnson 
had assured Sir John, that his assistance had never ex- 
ceeded the substitution of a word or two, in preference to 
what Sir Joshua had written. 

563. ''Mr. James Boswell.'" 

My father and Boswell grew a litde acquainted; and 
when the Life of their friend came out, Boswell showed 



'■A 



366 JOHNSONIANA. 

himself very uneasy under an injury, which he was much 
embarrassed in defining. He called on my father, and 
being admitted, complained of the manner in which he was 
enrolled amongst Johnson's friends, which was as "Mr. 
James Boswell of Auchinleck." Where was the offence? 
It was one of those which a complainant hardly dares to 
embody in words: he Avould only repeat, " Well, but Mr. 
James Boswell! surely, surely, Mr. James Boswell! r'' 
" I know," said my father, " Mr. Boswell, what you mean; 
you would have had me say that Johnson undertook this 
tour with The BosAvell." He could not indeed absolutely 
covet this mode of proclamation; he would perhaps have 
been content with " the celebrated," or " the well-known," 
but he could not confess quite so much; he therefore acqui- 
esced in the amendment proposed, but he was forced to 
depart without any promise of correction in a subsequent 
edition. 



367 



Part XXIX. 

anf:cdotes, 

BY JOHN NICHOLS.(*) 



564, ''Lives of the Poets:" 

My intimate acquaintance with that bright luminary of 
literature, Johnson, did not commence till he was advanced 
in years: but it happens to have fallen to my lot (and I 
confess that I am proud of it) to have been present at many 
interesting conversations in the latest periods of the life of 
this illustrious pattern of true piety. In the progress of 
his " Lives of the Poets," I had the good fortune to con- 
ciliate his esteem, by several little services. Many of his 
short notes during the progress of that work are printed in 
the Gentleman's Magazine, and in one of his letters to 
Mrs. Thrale he says, " I have finished the Life of Prior — 
and now a fig for Mr. Nichols!" Our friendship, how- 
ever, did not cease with the termination of those volumes. 

565. Lichfield. 

Of his birth-place, Lichfield, Dr. Johnson always spoke 
wilh a laudable enthusiasm. " Its inhabitants," he said, 
" were more orthodox in their religion, more pure in their 
language, and more polite in their manners, than any other 
town in the kingdom;" and he often lamented, that " no 
city of equal antiquity and worth had been so destitute of 

(*) [Prom " Literary Anecdotes of the Eighteenth Century," 
in 9 vols. 8to. 1812—15.] 



368 JOHNSONIANA. 

a native to record its fame and transmit its history to pos- 
terity." 

566. Roxana and Statira. 

Mr. Cradock informs me, that he once accompanied Dr. 
Johnson and Mr. Steevens to Marylebone Gardens, to see 
" La Serva Padrona" performed. Mr. Steevens, being 
quite vi^eary of the burletta, exclaimed, " There is no plot; 
it is merely an old fellow cheated and deluded by his ser- 
vant; it is quite foolish and unnatural." Johnson instantly 
replied, " Sir, it is not unnatitrol. It is a scene that is 
acted in my family every day in my life." This did not 
allude to the maid servant, however, so much, as to two 
distressed ladies, whom he generously supported in his 
house, who were always quarrelling. These ladies pre- 
sided at Johnson's table by turns when there was company; 
which, of course, would produce disputes. I ventured one 
day to say, " Surely, Dr. Johnson, Roxana for this time 
should take place of Statira." " Yes, sir," replied the 
Doctor; " but in my family, it has never been decided 
which is Roxana, and which is Statira." 

567. Joseph ReetVs Tragedy. 

It happened that I was in Bolt Court on the day when 
Mr. Henderson, the justly celebrated actor, was first intro- 
duced to Dr. Johnson; and the conversation turning on 
dramatic subjects, Henderson asked the Doctor's opinion 
of " Dido" and its author. " Sir," said Johnson, " I never 
did the man an injury; yet he would read his tragedy to 
me." 

568. Samuel Boyse. 

The following particulars of the unfortunate Samuel 
Boyse I had from Dr. Johnson's own mouth: — " By ad- 
dressing himself to low vices, among which were gluttony 
and extravagance, Boyse rendered himself so contemptible 
and wretched, that he frequently was without the least 
subsistence for days together. After squandering away in 
a dirty manner any money which he acquired, he has been 
known to pawn all his apparel." Dr. Johnson once col- 
lected a sum of money to redeem his clothes, which in 
two days after were pawned again. " This," said the 



NICHOLS. 369 

Doctor, " was when my acquaintances were few, and most 
of them as poor as myself. The money was collected by 
shillings." 

569. Lauder'' s Forgery. 

On my showing Dr. Johnson Archdeacon Blackburne's 
" Remarks on the Life of Milton," which were published 
in 1780, he wrote on the margin of p. 14, " In the business 
of Lauder I was deceived; partly by thinking the man too 
frantic to be fraudulent." 

570. Dr. Heberden. 

Dr. Johnson being asked in his last illness, what phy- 
sician he had sent for — " Dr. Heberden," replied he, 
" idthnum Romanorum, the last of our learned phy- 
sicians." 

571. Parliamentary Debates. 

On the morning of Dec. 7, 1784, only six days before 
his death. Dr. Johnson requested to see the editor of these 
anecdotes, from whom he had borrowed some of the early 
volumes of the Gentleman's Magazine, with a professed 
intention to point out the pieces which he had written in 
that collection. The books lay on the table, with many 
leaves doubled down, particularly those which contained 
his share in the Parliamentary Debates; (*) and such was 
the goodness of Johnson's heart, that he solemnly declared, 
that "the only part of his writings which then gave him 
any compunction, was his account of the debates in the 
Magazine; but that at the time he wrote them he did not 
think he was imposing on the world. The mode," he 
said, " was to fix upon a speaker's name, then to conjure 
up an answer. He wrote these debates with more velocity 
than any other of his productions; often three columns of 

(*) The plan of inserting a regular series of the Parliamentary 
Debates in the Gentleman's Magazine, was a project which Cave, 
the proprietor of that work, had long in contemplation before he 
adventured to put it in practice. At length, in July, 1736, he 
boldly dared; and a new era in politics, occasioned by the motion 
to remove the minister, Feb. 13, 1740-1, bringing on much warmer 
debates. Cave committed the care of this part of his monthly pub- 
lication to Johnson. 
24 



370 JOHNSONIANA. 

the magazine within the hour. He once wrote ten pages 
in one day. 

572. Mr. Faden. 

Dr. Johnson said to me, I may possibly live, or rather 
breathe, three days, or perhaps three Aveeks; but I find 
myself daily and gradually Avorse. Before I quitted him, 
he asked, whether any of the family of Faden, the printer, 
were alive. Being told that the geographer near Charing 
Cross Avas Faden's son, he said, after a short pause, " I 
borroAved a guinea of his father nearly thirty years ago; be 
so good as to take this, and pay it for me." 

573. Last Intervieiv. 

During the whole time of my intimacy Avith him, he 
rarely permitted me to depart Avithout some sententious 
advice. At the latest of these affecting intervicAvs, his 
words at parting Avere, " Take care of your eternal salva- 
tion. Remember to observe the Sabbath. Let it never 
be a day of business, nor Avholly a day of dissipation." 
He concluded his solemn farewell Avith, " Let my words 
have their due Aveight. They are the Avords of a dying 
man." I never saw him more. Li the last five or six 
days of his life but few even of his most intimate friends 
were admitted. Every hour that could be abstracted from 
his bodily pains and infirmities, Avas spent in prayer and 
the Avarmest ejaculations; and in that pious, praiscAvorthy, 
and exemplary manner, he closed a life begun, continued, 
and ended in virtue. 



371 



Part XXX. 

ANECDOTES AND REMARKS, 
BY ARTHUR MURPHY, ESQ. (*) 



574. Introductory. 

I ENJOYED the conversation and friendship of this excel- 
lent man more than thirty years. I thought it an honour 
to be so connected, and to this hour I reflect on his loss 
with regret: but regret, I know, has secret bribes, by which 
the judgment may be influenced, and partial affection may 
be carried beyond the bounds of truth. In the present 
case, however, nothing needs to be disguised, and exagge- 
rated praise is unnecessary. 

575. First Interview. 

It was in the summer of 1754, that I became acquainted 
with Dr. Johnson. The cause of his first visit is related 
by Mrs. Piozzi nearly in the following manner: — " Mr. 
Murphy being engaged in a periodical paper, the ' Gray's 
Inn Journal,' was at a friend's house in the country, and, 
not being disposed to lose pleasure for business, wished to 
content his bookseller by some unstudied essay. He there- 
fore took up a French Journal Litteraire, and, translating 
something he liked, sent it away to town. Time, how- 
ever, discovered that he translated from the French a 

(*) [From " An Essay on the Life and Genius of Samuel 
Johnson, LL. D." prefixed to his Works: and first published in 
1792.1 



372 JOHNSONIANA. 

' Rambler,' which had been taken from the English with- 
out acknowledgement. Upon this discovery, Mr. Murphy 
thought it right to make his excuses to Dr. Johnson. He 
went next day, and found him covered with soot, like a 
chimney-sweeper, in a little room, as if he had been acting 
Lungs in the Alchymist, making, ether. This being told by 
Mr. Murphy in company, ' Come, come,' said Dr. John- 
son, ' the story is black enough; but it was a happy day 
that brought you first to my house.' " After this first 
visit, I by degrees grew intimate with Dr. Johnson. 

576. Lord Bolinghroke. 

The first striking sentence that I heard from Dr. John- 
son was in a few days after the publication of Lord Boling- 
broke's posthumous works. Mr. Garrick asked him, " If 
he had seen them?" " Yes, I have seen them." " What 
do you think of them?" " Think of them!" He made a 
long pause, and then replied: " Think of them! A scoun- 
drel and a coward! A scoundrel, who spent his life in 
charging a gun against Christianity; and a coward, who 
was afraid of hearing the report of his own gun; but left 
half a crown to a hungry Scotchman to draw the trigger 
after his death." 

577. Picture of Himself . 

Johnson's reflections on his own life and conduct were 
always severe; and, wishing to be immaculate, he destroyed 
his own peace by vmnecessary sci'uples. He tells us, that, 
when he surveyed his past life, he discovered nothing but 
a barren waste of time, with some disorders of body, and 
disturbances of mind very near to madness. His life, he 
says, from his earliest youth, was wasted in a morning bed; 
and his reigning sin was a general sluggishness, to which 
he was always inclined, and, in part of his life, almost 
compelled, by morbid melancholy and weariness of mind. 
This was his constitutional malady, derived, perhaps, from 
his father, who was, at times, overcast with a gloom that 
bordered on insanity. 

In a Latin poem, to which he has prefixed as a title 
rNJ2©I 2EATTON, he has left a picture of himself, drawn 
with as much truth, and as firm a hand, as can be seen in 
the portraits of Hogarth or Sir Joshua Reynolds. The 



MURPHY. 37J 

learned reader will find the original poem in the first volume 
of his works; and it is hoped that a translation, or rather 
imitation, of so curious a piece will not be improper in this 
place: — 

" KNOW YOURSELF. 

" AFTER REVISING AND ENLARGING THE ENGLISH LEXICON, Or 
DICTIONARY. 

" When Scaliger, whole years of labour past, 
Beheld his Lexicon complete at last, 
And weary of his task, with wond'ring eyes, 
Saw from words piled on words a fabric rise, 
He cursed the industry, inertly strong. 
In creeping toil that could persist so long. 
And if, enraged he cried, Heav'n meant to shed 
Its keenest vengeance on the guilty head. 
The drudgery of words the damn'd would know, 
Doom'd to write Lexicons in endless woe. (*) 

" Yes, you had cause, great Genius, to repent ; 
' You lost good days, that might be better spent ;' 
You well might grudge the hours of iing'ring pain, 
And view your learned labours with disdain. 
To you were given the large expanded mind, 
The flame of genius, and the taste refined. 
'Twas yours on eagle wings aloft to soar, 
And amidst rolling worlds the Great First Cause explore; 
To fix the seras of recorded time. 
And live in ev'ry age and ev'ry clime; 
Record the chiefs, who propt their country's cause; 
Who founded empires, and establish'd laws ; 
To learn whate'er the sage with virtue fraught, 
Whate'er the Muse of moral wisdom taught. 
These were your quarry ; these to you were known, 
And the world's ample volume was your own. 

" Yet warn'd by me, ye pigmy Wits, beware, 
Nor with immortal Scaliger compare. 
Forme, though his example strike my view, 
Oh! not for me his fo6tsleps to pursue ; 
Whether first Nature, unpropitious, cold, 
This clay compounded in a ruder mould; 
Or the slow current, loit'ring at my heart, 
No gleam of wit or fancy can impart ; 
Whate'er the cause, from me no numbers flow, 
No visions warm me, and no raptures glow. 

(*)See Scaliger's epigram on this subject, communicated with- 
out doubt by Dr. Johnson, Gent. Mag. 1748. 



374 JOHNSONIANA. 

"A mind like Scaliger's, superior still, 
No grief could conquer, no misfortune chill. 
Though for the maze of words his native skies 
He seem'd to quit, 'twas but again to rise; 
To mount once more to the bright source of day, 
And view the wonders of th' etherial way. 
The love of Fame his gen'rous bosom fired ; 
Each Science hail'd him, and each Muse inspired. 
For him the Sons of Learning trimm'd the bays, 
And nations grew harmonious in his praise. 

"My task perform'd, and all my labours o'er, .. 
For me what lot has Fortune now in storel 
The listless will succeeds, that worst disease. 
The rack of indolence, the sluggish ease. 
Care grows on care, and o'er my aching brain 
Black Melancholy pours her morbid train. 
No kind relief, no lenitive at hand, 
I seek, at midnight clubs, the social band; 
But midnight clubs, where wit with noise conspires, 
Where Comus revels, and where wine inspires, 
Delight no more: 1 seek my lonely bed. 
And call on Sleep to soothe my languid head: 
But sleep from these sad lids flies far away; 
I mourn all night, and dread the coming day. 
Exhausted, tired, I throw my eyes around. 
To find some vacant spot on classic ground. 
And soon, vain hope! I form a grand design; 
Languor succeeds, and all my powers decline. 
If Science open not her richest vein. 
Without materials all our toil is vain. 
A form to rugged stone when Phidias gives, 
Beneath his touch a new creation lives. 
Remove his marble, and his genius dies; 
With nature then no breathing statue vies. 

"Whate'er I plan, I feel my powers confined 
By Fortune's frown and penury of mind. 
I boast no knowledge glean'd with toil and strife, 
That bright reward of a well-acted life. 
I view myself, while Reason's feeble light 
Shoots a pale glimmer through the gloom of night, 
While passions, errors, phantoms of the brain, 
And vain opinions, fill the dark domain; 
A deary void, where fears wiih grief combined 
Waste all within, and desolate the mind. 

" What then remainsi Must I in slow decline 
To mute inglorious ease old age resign? 
Or, bold ambiiion kindling in ray breast. 
Attempt some arduous taskl Or, were it best 



MITRPHY. 375 

Brooding o'er Lexicons to pass the da}', 
And in that labour drudge my life away1"(*) 

Such is the picture for which Dr. Johnson sat to himself. 
He gives the prominent features of his character; his lassi- 
tude, his morbid melancholy, his love of fame, his dejection, 
his tavern parties, and his wandering reveries, Vacuseinala 
somnia mentis, about Avhich so much has been written; all 
are painted in miniature, but in vivid colours, by his own 
hand. His idea of writing more dictionaries was not 
merely said in verse. Mr. Hamilton, who was at that 
time an eminent printer, and well acquainted with Dr. 
Johnson, remembers that he engaged in a Commercial 
Dictionary, and, as appears by the receipts in his posses- 
sion, was paid his price for several sheets; but he soon 
relinquished the undertaking. 

578. BoswelVs Irdroduction to Johnson. 

Upon one occasion, I went with Dr. Johnson into the 
shop of Davies, the bookseller, in Russel Street,' Covent 
Garden. Davies came running to him almost out of breath 
with joy: " The Scots gentleman is come, sir: his prin- 
cipal wish is to see you; he is now in the back parlour." 
" Well, well, I'll see the gentleman," said Johnson. He 
walked towards the room. Mr, Boswell was the person. 
I followed with no small curiosity. " I find," said Mr. 
Boswell, " that I am come to London at a bad time, when 
great popular prejudice has gone forth against us North 
Britons; but, when I am talking to you, I am talking to a 
large and liberal mind, and you know that I cannot help 
coming from Scotland.^'' " Sir," said Johnson, " no more 
can the rest of your countrymen. "(t) 

579. Dread of Death. 

For many years, when he was not disposed to enter 
into the conversation going forward, whoever sat near his 
chair might hear him repeating, from Shakspeare, — 

(*) [This spirited translation, or rather imitation, is by Mr. 
Miirphv.] 

(t) [Mr. Boswell's accoimt of this inlroduciion is somewhat 
differeut from the above. See Life, vol. i. p. 400.] 



376 JOHNSONIANA. 



" Ay, but to die and go we know not where; 
To lie in cold obstruction and to rot; 
This sensible warm motion to become 
A kneaded clod, and the delighted spirit 
To bathe in fiery floods." 

And from Milton, — 

" Who would lose, 
For fear of pain, this intellectual being !" 

580. Essex-Head Club. 

Johnson, being in December 1783 eased of his dropsy, 
began to entertain hopes that the vigour of his constitution 
was not entirely broken. For the sake of conversing with 
his friends, he established a conversation-club, to meet on 
every Wednesday evening; and, to serve a man whom he 
had known in Mr. Thrale's household for many years, the 
place was fixed at his house in Essex Street near the 
Temple. To answer the malignant remarks of Sir John 
Hawkins on this subject were a wretched waste of time. 
Professing to be Johnson's friend, that biographer has 
raised more objections to his character than all the enemies 
to that excellent man. Sir John had a root of bitterness 
that " put rancours in the vessel of his peace." "Field- 
ing," he says, " was the inventor of a cant phrase. Good- 
ness of Heart, which means litde more than the virtue of a 
horse or a dog." He should have known that kind affec- 
tions are the essence of virtue; they are the will of God 
implanted in our nature, to aid and strengthen moral obli- 
gation; they incite to action; a sense of benevolence is no 
less necessary than a sense of duty. Good affections are 
an ornament not only to an author but to his writings. He 
who shows himself upon a cold scent for opportunities to 
bark and snarl throughout a volume of six hundred pages 
may, if he will, pretend to moralize; but " goodness of 
heart," or, to use the politer phrase, the "virtue of a horse 
or a dog," would redound more to his honour. 

581. Character of Johnson. 

If we now look back, as from an eminence, to view the 
scenes of life and the literary labours in which Dr. John- 
son was engaged, we may be able to delineate the features 
of the man, and to form an estimate of his genius. As 



MURPHV. 377 

a man, Dr. Johnson stands displayed in open daylight. 
Nothing remains undiscovered. Whatever he said is knovi^n; 
and without allowing him the usual privilege of hazarding 
sentiments, and advancing positions, for mere amusement, 
or the pleasure of discussion, criticism has endeavoured to 
make him answerable for what, perhaps, he never seriously 
thought. His Diary, which has been printed, discovers 
still more. We have before us the very heart of the man, 
with all his inward consciousness. And yet, neither in 
the open paths of life, nor in his secret recesses, has any 
one vice been discovered. We see him reviewing every 
year of his life, and severely censuring himself for not 
keeping resolutions, which morbid melancholy and other 
bodily infirmities rendered impracticable. We see him for 
every little defect imposing on himself voluntary penance, 
and to the last, amidst paroxysms and remissions of illness, 
forming plans of study and resolutions to amend his life.(*) 
Many of his scruples may be called weaknesses; but they 
are the weaknesses of a good, a pious, and most excellent 
man. 

Johnson was born a logician; one of those to whom only 
books of logic are said to be of use. In consequence of 
his skill in that art, he loved argumentation. No man 
thought more profoundly, nor with such acute discernment. 
A fallacy could not stand before him: it was sure to be 
refuted by strength of reasoning, and a precision both in 
idea and expression almost unequalled. When he chose 
by apt illustration to place the argument of his adversary 
in a ludicrous light, one was almost inclined to think ridi- 
cule the test of truth. He was surprised to be told, but it 
is certainly true, that, with great powers of mind, wit and 
humour were his shining talents. That he often argued 
for the sake of triumph over his adversary, cannot be dis- 
sembled. Dr. Rose, of Chiswick, has been heard to tell 
a friend of his, who thanked him for introducing him to 
Dr. Johnson, as he had been convinced, in the course of a 
long dispute, that an opinion, which he had embraced as a 
settled truth, was no better than a vulgar error. This 
being reported to Johnson, " Nay," said he, " do not let 

(*) [On the subject of voluntary penance, see the Rambler, No. 
110.] 



378 JOHNSONIANA. 

him be thankful; for he was right, and I was wrong." 
Like his uncle Andrew, in the ring at Smithfield, Johnson, 
in a circle of disputants, was determined neither to be 
thrown nor conquered. Notwithstanding all his piety, 
self-government, or the command of his passions in con- 
versation, does not seem to have been among his attain- 
ments. Whenever he thought the contention was for 
superiority, he has been known to break out Avith violence, 
and even ferocity. When the fray was over, he generally 
softened into repentance, and, by conciliating measures, 
took care that no animosity should be left rankling in the 
breast of his antagonist. 

It is observed by the younger Pliny, that in the confines 
of virtue and great qualities there are generally vices of an 
opposite nature. In Dr. .Johnson, not one ingredient can 
take the name of vice. From his attainments in literature 
grew the pride of knowledge; and from his powers of 
reasoning, the love of disputation and the vainglory of 
superior vigour. His piety, in some instances, bordered 
on superstition. He was willing to believe in preternatural 
agency, and thought it not more strange that there should 
be evil spirits than evil men. Even the question about 
second sight held them in suspense. 

Since virtue, or moral goodness, consists in a just con- 
formity of our actions to the relations in which we stand to 
the Supreme Being and to our fellow-creatures, Avhere shall 
we find a man who has been, or endeavoured to be, more 
diligent in the discharge of those essential duties? His 
first Prayer was composed in 1738; he continued those 
fervent ejaculations of piety to the end of his life. In his 
Meditations Ave see him scrutinising himself with severity, 
and aiming at perfection unattainable by man. His duty 
to his neighbour consisted in universal benevolence, and a 
constant aim at the production of happiness. Who was 
more sincere and steady in his friendships? 

His humanity and generosity, in proportion to his slender 
income, Avere unbounded. It has been truly said, that the 
lame, the blind, and the sorrowful, found in his house a 
sure retreat. A strict adherence to truth he considered as 
a sacred obligation, insomuch that, in relating the most 
minute anecdote, he Avould not alloAV himself tbe smallest 
addition to embellish his story. The late Mr. Tyers, Avho 



MURPHY. 379 

knew Dr. Johnson intimately, observed, that " he always 
talked as if he was talking upon oath." After a long ac- 
quaintance with this excellent man, and an attentive 
retrospect of his whole conduct, such is the light in 
which he appears to the writer of this essay. The fol- 
lowing lines of Horace may be deemed his picture in 
miniature: — 

" Iracundior estpaulo, minus aptus acutis 
Naribus horum hominum, rideri possit, eo quod 
Rusticius tonso toga defluit, et male laxiis 
In pede calceus hseret ; at est bonus, ut melior vir 
Nou alius quisquam; at tibi amicus at ingeuium ingens; 
Inculto latet hoc sub corpore." 

" Your friend is passionate, perhaps unfit 
For the brisk petulance of modern wit; 
His hair ill-cut, his robe that awkward flows, 
Or his large shoes to raillery expose 
The man you love; yet is he not possest 
Of virtues with which very kw are blestl 
While underneath this rude, uncouth disguise 
A genius of extensive knowledge lies." 



380 JOHNSONIANA. 



Part XXXI. 

CRITICAL REMARKS, 
BY NATHAN DRAKE. (*) 

582. "■London:' 

As this spirited imitation of Juvenal forms an epoch in 
our author's literary life, and is one of his best poetical 
productions, I shall consider it as introductory to an unin- 
terrupted consideration of his compositions in this branch, 
and to a discussion of his general character as a poet; and 
this plan I shall pursue with regard to the other numerous 
departments of literature in which he excelled, and accord- 
ing to the order in which the first in merit of a class shall 
in succession rise to view; persuaded that, by this mode, 
the monotony arising from a stricter chronological detail 
of his various writings, the arrangement hitherto adopted 
by his biographers, may, in a great measure, be obviated. 

Of the three imitators of the third satire of the Roman 
poet, Boileau, Oldham, and Johnson, the latter is, by 
many degrees, the most vigorous and poetical. No man, 
indeed, was better calculated to transfuse the stern invec- 
tive, the sublime philosophy, and nervous painting of Juve- 
nal, than our author; and his " London," whilst it rivals 
the original in these respects, is, at the same time, greatly 
superior to it in purity of illustration, and harmony of ver- 
sification. The felicity with which he has adapted the 

(*) [From "Essays, critical and historical, illustrative of the 
Rambler, Adventurer, and Idler:" by Nathan Drake, M.D. Part 
II. " The Literary Life of Dr. Johnson," 2 vols. 1806.] 



DRAKE. 381 

imagery and allusions of the Latin poem to modern man- 
ners, vices, and events; and the richness and depth of 
thought which he exhibits when the hint is merely taken 
from the Roman bard, or when he chooses altogether to 
desert him, are such as to render this satire the noblest 
moral poem in our language. 

At the period when Johnson wrote his " London, "(*) he 
must, from his peculiar circumstances, have been prone 
to imbibe all the warmth and indignation of the ancient 
satirist, who depicts in the boldest colours the unmerited 
treatment to which indigence is subjected, and the multi- 
form oppressions arising from tyranny and ill-acquii*ed 
wealth. He was indeed, at this time, " steeped up to the 
lips in poverty," and was likewise a zealous opponent of 
what he deemed a corrupt administration. It is impossi- 
ble to read the following passage, one of the finest in the 
poem, and especially its concluding line, which the author 
distinguished by capitals, without deeply entering into, 
and severely sympathising with, the feelings and sufferings 
of the writer: — 

" By numbers here from shame or censure free, 
All crimes are safe but hated poverty : 
This, only this, the rigid law pursues. 
This, only this, provokes the snarling muse. 
The sober trader at a tatter'd cloak 
Wakes from his dream, and labours for a joke ; 
With brisker air the silken courtiers gaze. 
And turn the varied taunt a thousand ways. 

" Of all the griefs that harass the distress'd, 
Sure the most bitter is a scornful jest; 
Fate never wounds more deep the gen'rous heart, 
Than when a blockhead's insult points the dart. 

"Has heaven reserved, in pity to the poor. 
No pathless waste, or undiscover'd shore ? 

(*) [One of the warmest patrons of Johnson's " London," on its 
first appearance in 1738, was General Oglethorpe; and the Doc- 
tor, throughout life, gratefully acknowledged the kind and effec- 
tual support which he gave to that poem, though totally unac- 
quainted with Its author. The accompanying engraving is made 
from a pen-and-ink sketch, taken February 28th, 1785, by the late 
Samuel Ireland, while the General was attending the sale of Dr. 
Johnson's library at Christie's great room in Pall Mall. The ori- 
ginal is in the possession of Mr. Upcott. He died in the July fol- 
lowing, in his eighty-fifth year.] 



382 JOHNSONIANA. 

No secret island in the boundless main! 
No peaceful desert yet unclaim'd by Spain? 
duick let us rise, the happy seats explore, 
And bear oppression's insolence no more. 
This mournful truth is everywhere confess'd, 
Slow rises worth, by poverty depressed." 

583. '■'■Vanity of Human Wishes ." 

The "Vanity of Human Wishes," the subject of which 
is in a great degree founded on the Alcibiades of Plato, 
possesses not the point and fire which animate the "Lon- 
don." It breathes, however, a strain of calm and dignified 
philosophy, much more pleasing to the mind, and cer- 
tainly much more consonant to truth, than the party exag- 
geration of the prior satire. The poet's choice of modern 
examples, in place of those brought forward by the ancient 
bard, is happy and judicious; and he has everywhere 
availed himself, and in a style the most impressive, of the 
solemnity, the pathos, and sublime morality of the Chris- 
tian code. 

To enter into competition with the tenth satire of Juve- 
nal, which is, without doubt, the most perfect composition 
of its author, was a daring and a hazardous attempt. Dry- 
den had led the way, and, though occasionally successful, 
has failed to equal the general merit of the Latin poem. 
The imitation of Johnson, on the contrary, may be said to 
vie with the Roman in every line, and in some- instances to 
surpass the original; particularly in the sketch of Charles, 
and in the conclusion of the satire, which, though nobly 
moral as it is in the page of Juvenal, is greatly heightened 
by the pen of Johnson, and forms one of the finest lessons 
of piety and resignation discoverable in the words of any 
uninspired writer. After reprobating the too frequent folly 
of our wishes and our prayers, it is inquired of the poet, 
whether we shall upon no occasion implore the mercy of 
the skies? He replies: — 

"Inquirer, cease; petitions yet remain. 
Which Heaven may hear, nor deem religion vain. 
Still raise for good the supplicating voice. 
But leave to Heaven the measure and the choice. 
Safe in His power, whose eyes discern afar 
The secret ambush of a specious prayer; 
Implore His aid, in His decisions rest, 
Secure whate'er He gives He gives the best. 



DRAKE. 383 

Yet when the sense of sacred presence fires, 

And strong devotion to the skies aspires, 

Pour forth thy fervours for a healthful mind, 

Obedient passions, and a will resign'd. 

For love, which scarce collective man can fill; 

For patience, sovereign o'er transmitted ill; 

For faith, that, panting for a happier seat, 

Counts death kind nature's signal of retreat: 

These goods for man the laws of heaven ordain. 

These goods he grants, who grants the power to gain; 

With these celestial wisdom calms the mind, 

And makes the happiness she does not find." 

584. "/rme." 

" Irene" can boast of a strict adherence to the unities; 
of harmonious versification; of diction vigorous and splen- 
did; of sentiment morally correct and philosophically 
beautiful: but its fable is without interest, its characters 
without discrimination, and neither terror nor pity is ex- 
cited. If it fail, however, as a drama, in delineating- the 
ebullitions of passion, it will, as a series of ethic dialogues, 
replete with striking observations on human conduct, and 
rich in poetic expression, be long studied and admired in 
the closet. No one of the productions of Johnson, indeed, 
was more carefully elaborated than his " Irene;" and, 
thovigh commenced at an early period of life, no one more 
evidently discovers his exclusive love of moral philosophy, 
and his ample store of nervous and emphatic language. Of 
the numerous passages which illustrate this remark, and 
which, for their moral excellence, should dwell upon the 
memory, I shall adduce two, in conception and in execu- 
tion alike happy. Demetrius, addressing the aged Visier 
Cali on the danger of protracting the blow which he in- 
tended until the morrow, exclaims, — 

" To-morrow's action! can that hoary wisdom, 
Borne down with years, still doat upon to-morrow! 
That fatal mistress of the young, the lazy, 
The coward, and the fool, condemn'd to lose 
An useless life in waiting for to-morrow. 
To gaze with longing eyes upon to-morrow. 
Till interposing death destroys the prospect! 
Strange! that this gen'ral fraud from day to day 
Should fill the world with wretches undetected. 
The soldier, lab'ring through a winter's march, 
Still sees to-morrow drest in robes of triumph ; 



384 JOHNSONIANA. 

Still to the lover's long-expecting arms, 
To-morrow brings the visionary bride. 
But thou, too old to bear another cheat, 
Learn, that the present hour alone is man's." 

Aspasia, reprobating the ambition and meditated apostacy 
of Irene, endeavours to reconoile her mind to the loss of life, 
rather than of virtue and religion, and bids her 

" Reflect that life and death, affecting sounds! 
Are only varied modes of endless being; 
Reflect that life, like ev'ry other blessing, 
Derives its value from its use alone: 
Not for itself, but for a nobler end, 
Th' Eternal gave it, and that end is virtue. 
When inconsistent with a greater good, 
Reason commands to cast the less away; 
Thus life, with loss of wealth, is well preserved, 
And virtue cheaply saved with loss of life." 

In act the first, scene the second, is a passage which 
has been frequently and justly admired; it is put into the 
mouth of the Visier Cali, who, execrating the miseries of 
arbitrary power, alludes to a report which he had received, 
of the nicely balanced structure of the British Constitu- 
tion: — 

" If there be any land, as fame reports, 
Where common laws restrain the prince and subject, 
A happy land, where circulating power 
Flows through each member of th' embodied state; 
Sure, not unconscious of tiie mighty blessing. 
Her grateful sons shine bright with ev'ry virtue; 
Untainted with the lust of innovation. 
Sure all unite to hold her league of rule 
Unbroken as the sacred chain of nature, 
That links the jarring elements in peace." 

" These are British sentiments," remarks Mr. Murphy 
(writing in 1792): " about forty years age, they found an 
echo in the breast of applauding audiences; and to this 
hour they are the voice of the people, in defiance of the 
metaphysics and the new lights of certain politicians, who 
would gladly find their private advantage in the disasters 
of their country; a race of men, quibics nulla ex honesto 
spes." 

585. Robert Levett. 
The stanzas on the death of this man of great but 



DRAKE. 385 

humble utility are beyond all praise. The wonderful 
powers of Johnson were never shown to greater advan- 
tage than on this occasion, where the subject, from its 
obscurity and mediocrity, seemed to bid defiance to poetical 
efforts; it is, in fact, warm from the heart, and is the only 
poem from the pen of Johnson that has been bathed with 
tears. Would to God, that on every medical man who 
attends the poor, the following encomiums could be justly 
passed! 

" Well tried through many a varying year, 
See Levett to the grave descend; 
Officious, innocent, sincere. 

Of evWy friendless name the friend. 

" When fainting nature call'd for aid, 
And hov'ring death prepared the blow, 
His vig'rous remedy display'd 
The power of art without the shovj. 

"In Mis'ri/s darkest cavern known, 
His useful care was ever nigh, 
Where hopeless Anguish poured his groan, 
And lonely Want retired to die." 

How boldly painted, how exquisitely pathetic, as a de- 
scription of the sufferings of human life, is this last stanza! 
I am acquainted with nothing superior to it in the pro- 
ductions of the moral muse. 

586. ''Medea," of Euripides. 

To the English poetry of Johnson, may now be added 
a very beautiful translation of some noble lines from the 
•' Medea" of Euripides. It has escaped all the editors of 
his works, and was very lately introduced to the world in 
a volume of considerable merit, entitled " Translations 
from the Greek Anthology, with Tales and Miscellaneous 
Poems." A parody, indeed, by our author upon this 
passage of the Grecian poet was published by Mrs. 
Piozzi, but it is of little value, while the following ver- 
sion has preserved all the elegance and pathos of the 
original: — 

" The rites derived from ancient days. 
With thoughtless reverence we praise; 
The rites that taught us to combine 
The joys of music and of wine ; 
25 



386 JOHNSONIANA. 

That bade the feast, the song, the bowl, 

O'erfill the saturated soul; 

But ne'er the lute nor lyre applied 

To soothe Despair or soften Pride, 

Nor call'd them to their gloomy cells 

Where Madness raves and Vengeance swells, 

Where Hate sits musing to betray, 

And Murder meditates his prey. 

To dens of guilt and shades of care, 

Ye sons of melody, repair, 

Nor deign the festive hour to cloy 

"With superfluity of joy ; 

The board with varied plenty crown'd 

May spare the luxury of sound." 

587. Rambler and Adventurer. 

As specimens of the style of Johnson, we shall adduce 
three quotations, taken from the " Rambler" and " Ad- 
venturer;" the first on a didactic, the second on a moral, 
and the third on a religious subject; passages, which will 
place in a very striking light the prominent peculiarities 
and ejccellences of the most splendid and powerful mo- 
ralist of which this country can boast. Animadverting on 
the necessity of accommodating knowledge to the purposes 
of life, the "Rambler" thus proceeds: — 

" To lessen that disdain with which scholars are inclined to look 
on the common business of the world, and the unwillingness with 
which they condescend to learn what is not to be found in any 
system of philosophy, it may be necessary to consider, that though 
admiration is excited by abstruse researches and remote disco- 
veries, yet pleasure is not given, noraff"ection conciliated, but by 
softer accomplishments, and qualities more easily communicable 
to those about us. He that can only converse upon questions about 
which only a small part of mankind has knowledge sufficient to 
make them curious, must lose his days in unsocial silence, and 
live in the crowd of life without a companion. He that can only 
be useful in great occasions, may die without exerting his abilities, 
and stand a helpless spectator of a thousand vexations which fret 
away happiness, and which nothing is required to remove, but a 
little dexterity of conduct and readiness of expedients. 

" No degree of knowledge attainable by man is able to set him 
above the want of hourly assistance, or to extinguish the desire 
of fond endearments and tender ofiiciousness; and therefore, no 
one should think it unnecessary to learn those arts by which friend- 
ship may be gained. Kindness is preserved by a constant recip« 
rocation of benefits or interchange of pleasures; but such benefits 
only can be bestowed as others are capable to receive, and such 
pleasures only imparted as others are qualified to enjoy. 

"By this descent from the pinnacles of art no honour will be 



DRAKE. 387 

lost; for the condescensions of learning are always overpaid by 
gratitude. An elevated genius employed in little things, appears, 
to use the simile of Longinus, like the sun in his evening decli- 
nation; he remits his splendour but retains his magnitude, and 
pleases more though he dazzles less. "(*) 

The following passage on the iniquity of revenge, and 
on the meanness of regulating our conduct by the opinions 
of men, is alike eminent for its style and for its sentiments: 
the purest morality is here clothed in diction powerfully 
impressive:— 

" A wise man will make haste to forgive, because he knows the 
true value of time, and will not suffer it to pass away in unne- 
cessary pain. He that willingly suffers the corrosions of invete- 
rate hatred, and gives up his days and nights to the gloom and 
malice and perturbations of stratagem, cannot surely be said to 
consult his ease. Resentment is an union of sorrow with ma- 
lignity; a combination of a passion which all endeavour to avoid, 
with a passion which all concur to detest. The man who retires 
to meditate mischief, and to exasperate his own rage; whose 
thoughts are employed only on means of distress and contrivances 
of ruin; whose mind never pauses from the remembrance of his 
own sulferings, but to indulge some hope of enjoying the cala- 
mities of another, may justly be numbered among the most mi- 
serable of human beings, among those who are guilty without 
reward, who have neither the gladness of prosperity nor the calm 
of innocence. 

"Whoever considers the weakness both of himself and others 
will not long want persuasives to forgiveness. We know not to 
what degree of malignity any injury is to be imputed: or how 
much its guilt, if we were to inspect the mind of him that com- 
mitted it, would be extenuated by mistake, precipitance, or neg- 
ligence; we cannot be certain how much more we feel than was 
intended to be inflicted, or how much we increase the mischief to 
ourselves by voluntary aggravations. We may charge to design 
the effects of accident; we may think the blow violent only be- 
cause we have made ourselves delicate and tender; we are on 
every side in danger of error and of guilt, which we are certain 
to avoid only by speedy forgiveness. 

" From this pacific and harmless temper, thus propitious to 
others and ourselves, to domestic tranquillity and to social happi- 
ness, no man is withheld but by pride, by the fear of being insulted 
by his adversary, or despised by the world. 

" It may be laid down as an unfailing and universal axiom, that 
' all pride is abject and mean.' It is always an ignorant, lazy, or 
cowardly acquiescence in a false appearance of excellence, and 
proceeds not from consciousness of our attainments, but insensi- 
bility of our wants. 

" Nothing can be great which is not right. Nothing which 

(*) Rambler, No. 137. 



388 JOHNSONIANA. 

reason condemns can be suitable to the dignity of the human 
mind. To be driven by external motives from the path which 
our own heart approves, to give way to anything but conviction, 
to sufler the opinion of others to rule our choice or overpower our 
resolves, is to submit tamely to the lowest and most ignominious 
slavery, and to resign the right of directing our own lives. 

"The utmost excellence at which humanity can arrive, is a 
constant and determinate pursuit ol virtue without regard to pre- 
sent dangers or advantage; a continual reference of every action 
to the divine will; an habitual appeal to everlasting justice; and 
an unvaried elevation of the intellectual eye to the reward which 
perseverance only can obtain. But that pride which many, who 
presume to boast of generous sentiments, allow to regulate their 
measures, has nothing nobler in view than the approbation of 
men; of beings whose superiority we are under no obligation to 
acknowledge, and who, when we have courted them with the 
utmost assiduity, can confer no valuable or permanent reward; of 
beings who ignorantly judge of what they do not understand, or 
partially determine what they never have examined; and whose 
sentence is therefore of no weight, till it has received the ratifica- 
tion of our own conscience. 

" He that can descend to bribe suffrages like these at the price 
of his innocence; he that can suffer the delight of such acclama- 
tions to withhold his attention from the commands of the universal 
Sovereign, has little reason to congratulate himself upon the 
greatness of his mind; whenever he awakes to seriousness and 
reflection, he must become despicable in his own eyes, and shrink 
with shame from the remembrance of his cowardice and folly. 

" Of him that hopes to be forgiven, it is indispensably required 
that he forgive. It is therefore superfluous to urge any other 
motive. On this great duty eternity is suspended; and to him 
that refuses to practice it the throne of mercy is inaccessible, and 
the Saviour of the world has been born in vain."(*) 

Admirably, however, as these noble precepts are ex- 
pressed, the specimen that we have next to quote will, it 
is probable, be deemed still superior both in diction and 
imagery. The close is, indeed, one of the most exquisite 
and sublime passages in the works of its eloquent author. 
Speaking of those who retire from the world that "they 
may employ more time in the duties of religion; that they 
may regulate their actions with stricter vigilance, and 
purify their thoughts by more frequent meditation," he 
adds, — 

" To men thus elevated above the mists of mortality, I am far 
from presuming myself qualified to give directions. On him that 
appears ' to pass through things temporal,' with no other care than 
' not to lose finally the things eternal,' I look with such veneration 

(*) Rambler, No. 185. 



DRAKE. 389 

as inclines me to approve his conduct in the whole, without a 
minute examination of its parts; yet I could never forbear to wish, 
that while Vice is every day multiplying seducements, and stalk- 
ing forth with more hardened eflrontery, Virtue would not with- 
draw the influence of her presence, or forbear to assert her natural 
dignity by open and undaunted perseverance in the right. Piety 
practised in solitude, like the Jloioer that blooms in the desert, may 
give its fragrance to the winds of heaven, and delight those uribodied 
spirits that survey the works of God arid the actions of men: but it 
bestows no assistance upon earthly beings, o,nd however free from 
taints of impurity, yet wants the sacred splendour of beneficence. "{*) 

The publication of the " Rambler" produced a very rapid 
revolution in the tone of English composition: an elevation 
and dignity, an harmony and energy, a precision and force 
of style, previously unknown in the history of our litera- 
ture, speedily became objects of daily emulation; and the 
school of Johnson increased with such celerity, that it soon 
embraced the greater part of the rising literary characters 
of the day, and was consequently founded on such a basis 
as will not easily be shaken by succeeding modes. 

588. Johnson Sketched by Himself. 

The character of Sober in the "Idler," No. 31, was in- 
tended by the author as a delineation of himself. Johnson 
was constitutionally idle, nor was he roused to any great 
effort, but by the imperious call of necessity: his exertions, 
indeed, when sufficiently stimulated, Avere gigantic, but 
they were unfrequent and uncertain. He was destined to 
complain of the miseries of idleness, and to mitigate his 
remorse by repeated but too often ineffectual resolutions of 
industry. The portrait which he has drawn is faithful, 
and divested of flattery — a result not common in auto- 
biography: — 

"Sober is a man of strong desires and quick imagination, so 
exactly balanced by the love of ease, that they can seldom stimu- 
late him to any difficult undertaking; they have, however, so much 
power, that they will not suffer him to lie quite at rest, and though 
they do not make him sufficiently useful to others, they make him 
at least weary of liimself. 

" Mr. Sober's chief pleasure is conversation; there is no end of 
his talk or his attention; to speak or to hear is equally pleasing; 
for he still fancies that he is teaching or learning something, and 
is free for the time from his own reproaches. 

(*) Adventurer, No. 126. 



390 JOHNSONIANA. 

" But there is one time at night when he must go home, that his 
friends may sleep; and another time in the morning, when all the 
world agrees to shut out interruption. These are the moments of 
which poor Sober trembles at the thought. But the misery of 
these tiresome intervals, he has many means of alleviating. He 
has persuaded himself that the manual arts are undeservedly 
overlooked; he has observed in many trades the effects of close 
thought, and just ratiocination. From speculation he proceeded 
to practice, and supplied himself with the tools of a carpenter, 
with which he mended his coal-box very successfully, and which 
he still continues to employ as he finds occasion. 

" He has attempted at other times the crafts of the shoemaker, 
tinman, plumber, and potter; in all these arts he has failed, and 
resolves lo qualify himself for them by better information. But 
his daily amusement is chemistry. He has a small furnace, which 
he employs in distillaiion, and which has long been the solace of 
his life. He draws oils, and waters, and essences, and spirits, 
which he knows to be of no use; sits and counts the drops as they 
come from his retort; and forgets that whilst a drop is falling, a 
moment flies away. 

" Poor Sober! I have often teased him with reproof, and he 
has often promised reformation; for no man is so much open to 
conviction as the idler, but there is none on whom it operates so 
little. What will be the etfect of this paper I know not; perhaps 
he will read it, and laugh, and light the fire in his furnace; but 
my hope is, that he will quit his trifles, and betake himself to ra- 
tional and useful diligence.'"' 

589. Horror of Death. 

One of the best written and most impressive of the 
essays of the " Rambler" is No. 78, on the power of 
novelty, in which he appears to have exerted the full force 
of his genius. It is in this paper that the horror of death, 
which embittered so many of the hours of Johnson, is de- 
picted in more vivid colours than in any other part of his 
periodical writings: — 

" Surely," he remarks, "nothing can so much disturb the pas- 
sions or perplex the intellects of man, as the disruption of his 
union with visible nature; a separation from all that has hitherto 
delighted or engaged him; a change not only of the place, but the 
manner, of his being; an entrance into a state not simply which 
he knows not, but which perhaps he has not faculties to know; an 
immediate and perceptible communication with the Supreme 
Being, and, what is above all distressful and alarming, the final 
sentence, and unalterable allotment:" — 

a passage which, in its sentiment and tendency, strongly 
reminds us of the admirable description of Claudio in the 
" Measure for Measure" of Shakspeare:— 



DRAKE. 391 

" Ay, but to die, and go we know not where ; 
To lie in cold obstruclion, and to rot; 
This sensible warm motion to become 
A kneaded clod; and the delighted spirit 
To bathe in fiery floods, or to reside 
In thrilling regions of thick-ribbed ice; 
To be imprison'd in the viewless winds, 
And blown with restless violence round about 
The pendent world; or to be worse than worst 
Of those, that lawless and incerlain thoughts 
Imagine howling! — 'tis too horrible! 
The weariest and most loathed worldly life, 
That age, ache, penury, and imprisonment 
Can lay on nature, is a paradise 
To what we fear of death." 

Our author seems likewise to have remembered a coup- 
let in the " Aureng-Zebe" of Dryden: — 

" Death in itself is nothing; but we fear 
To be we know not what, we know not where." 

It is in this paper, also, that one of the few pathetic 
paragraphs which are scattered though the pages of John- 
son may be found. Whether considered with regard to its 
diction or its tender appeal to the heart, it is alike exqui- 
site: — 

" It is not possible," observes the moralist, " to be regarded with 
tenderness except by a few. That merit which gives greatness 
and renown diffuses its influence to a wide compass, but acts 
weakly on every single breast; it is placed at a distance from com- 
mon spectators, and shines like one of the remote stars, of which 
the light reaches us, but not the heat. The wit, the hero, the phi- 
losopher, whom their tempers or their fortunes have hindered 
from intimate relations, die, without any other effect than that of 
adding a new topic to the conversation of the day. They impress 
none with any fresh conviction of the fragility of our nature, be- 
cause none had any particular interest in their lives, or was united 
to them by a reciprocation of benefits and endearments. Thus 
it often happens, that those who in their lives were applauded and 
admired, are laid at last in the ground without the common honour 
of a stone; because by those excellencies with which many were 
delighted, none had been obliged, and though they had many to 
celebrate, they had none to love them." 

590. Anningait and Ajut. 

Never was the passion of love, or the assiduities of af- 
fection, placed in a more entertaining or pleasing light, 
than in the Greenland story of Anningait and Ajut;(*) 

C*) Rambler, Nos. 86, 187. 



392 JOHNSONIANA. 

which, owing to its wild and savage imagery, and the 
felicity with which it is adapted to the circumstances of 
the narrative, possesses the attractions of no ordinary share 
of originality. Mr. Campbell, in his truly sublime poem 
on the Pleasures of Hope, has thus beautifully alluded to 
this story: — 

" Oh! vainly wise, the moral Muse halh sung 
That 'suasive Hope hath but a syren tongue ! 
True; she may sport with life's untutor'd day, 
Nor heed the solace of its last decay, 
The guileless heart, her happy mansion spurn, 
And part like Ajut — never to return." 

591. Rasselas. 

Many of the topics which are eagerly discussed in the 
History of Rasselas are known to have greatly interested, 
and even agitated, the mind of Johnson. Of these the 
most remarkable are, on the Efficacy of Pilgrimage, on 
the State of Departed Souls, on the Probability of the Re- 
appearance of the Dead, and on the Danger of Insanity. 
The apprehension of mental derangement seems to have 
haunted the mind of Johnson during the greater part of 
his life; and he has therefore very emphatically declared, 
that, " of the uncertainties in our present state, the most 
dreadful and alarming is the uncertain continuance of rea- 
son. "(*) It is highly probable, that his fears and feelings 
on this head gave rise to the character of the Mad Astro- 
nomer in Rasselas, who declared to Imlac, that he had 
possessed for five years the regulation of the weather, and 
the distribution of the seasons; that the sun had listened 
to his dictates, and passed from tropic to tropic by his 
direction; that the clouds at his call had poured their waters, 
and the Nile had overflowed at his command. This tre- 
mendous visitation he has ascribed principally to the indul- 
gence of imagination in the shades of solitude: — 

" Disorders of intellect," he remarks, " happen much more often 
than superficial observers will easily believe. Perhaps, if we 
speak with rigorous exactness, no human mind is in its right state. 
There is no man whose imagination does not sometimes predomi- 
nate over his reason, who can regulate his attention wholly by his 
will, and whose ideas will come and go at his command. No man 

{*) Rasselas, chap. 42. 



DRAKE. 393 

will be found in whose mind airy notions do not sometimes tyran- 
nise, and force him to hope or fear beyond the limits of sober 
probability. All power of fancy over reason is a degree of in- 
sanity; but while this power is such as we can control and repress, 
it is not visible to others, nor considered as any depravation of the 
menial faculties: it is not pronounced madness but when it be- 
comes ungovernable, and apparently influences speech or action. 

" To indulge the power of fiction, and send imagination out 
upon the wing, is often the sport of those who delight too much 
in silent speculation. When we are alone we are not always 
busy; the labour of excogitation is too violent to last long; the 
ardour of inquiry will sometimes give way to idleness or satiety. 
He who has nothing external that can divert him, must find plea- 
sure in his own thoughts, and must conceive himself what he is 
not; for who is pleased with what he is^ He then expatiates in 
boundless futurity, and culls from all imaginable conditions that 
which for the present moment he should most desire, amuses his 
desires with impossible enjoymenis, and confers upon his pride 
unattainable dominion. The mind dances from scene to scene, 
unites all pleasures in all combinations, and riots in delights 
which nature and fortune, with all their bounty, cannot bestow. 

" In time, some particular train of ideas fixes the attention; all 
other intellectual gratifications are rejected; the mind, in weari- 
ness or leisure, recurs constantly to the favourite conception, and 
feasts on the luscious falsehood, whenever she is offended with the 
bitterness of truth. By degrees the reign of fancy is confirmed; 
she grows first imperious, and in time despotic. Then fictions 
begin to operate as realities, false opinions fasten upon the mind, 
and life passes in dreams of rapture or of anguish. 

" This, sir, is one of the dangers of solitude. "(*) 

In the paragraphs which we have just quoted, there is 
much reason to suppose, that Johnson was describing what 
he had himself repeatedly experienced; and to this circum- 
stance Sir John Hawkins has attributed his uncommon 
attachment to society. 

592. Preface to Shakspeare. 

This Preface is perhaps the most eloquent and acute 
piece of dramatic criticism of which our language can 
boast. The characteristic excellencies of Shakspeare, his 
beauties and defects, are delineated with powers of discri- 
mination not easily paralleled; and though the panegyric 
on his genius be high and uncommonly splendid, his faults 
are laid open with an impartial and unsparing hand. To 
the prose encomia of Dryden and Addison on our unri- 

(*) Rasselas, chap. 43, 



394 JOHNSONIANA. 

vailed bard may be added, as worthy of juxtaposition, the 
following admirable paragraph; the conclusion of which is 
alike excellent for its imagery and sublimity: — 

"As the personages of Shakspeare act upon principles arising 
from genuine passion, very little modified by particular forms, 
their pleasures and vexations are communicable to all times and 
to all places; they are natural, and therefore durable; the adventi- 
tious peculiarities of personal habits are only superficial dyes, 
bright and pleasing for a little while, yet soon fading to a dim 
tinct, without any remains of former lustre; but the discrimina- 
tions of true passion are the colours of nature; they pervade the 
whole mass, and can only perish with the body that exhibits them. 
The accidental compositions of heterogeneous modes are dissolved 
by the chance that combined them; but the uniform simplicity of 
primitive qualities neither admits increase nor sufl^ers decay. 
The sand heaped by one flood is scattered by another, but the rock 
always continues in its place. The stream of time, which is con- 
tinually washijig the dissoluble fabrics of other poets, passes without 
injury by the adamant of Shakspeare." 

593. ''Lives of the Poets." 

The effect of the critical biography of Johnson on the 
literary world, and on the public at large, has been very 
considerable, and, in many respects, beneficial. It has 
excited a laudable attention to preserve the memory of 
those who have by intellectual exertions contributed to 
our instruction and amusement; whereas, previous to the 
appearance of our author's "Lives," biography, with few 
exceptions, had been confined to military and political 
characters: it has given rise, also, to much discussion and 
research into the merits and defects of our national poets; 
and the addition to which it was annexed, has led the way 
to several subsequent collections on an improved and more 
extended scale. 

594. Johnson's ''Letters." 

The Letters of Johnson place him before us stripped of 
all disguise; they teach us to love as well as to admire the 
man, and are frequently written with a pathos and an 
ardour of affection, which impress us with a much more 
amiable idea of the writer, than can be drawn from any 
portion of his more elaborated works. 

595. Johnson'' s Sermons. 
The Sermons of Johnson, twenty-five in number, were 



DRAKE. 395 

part of the stock which his friend Dr. Taylor carried with 
him to the pulpit. As compositions, they are little in- 
ferior to any of his best works; and they inculcate, with- 
out enthusiasm or dogmatism, the purest precepts and 
doctrines of religion and morality. 

596. '■'■Prayers and Meditations J* ^ 

It is in the Prayers and Meditations of Johnson that we 
become acquainted with the inward heart of the man. He 
had left them for publication, under the idea that they 
were calculated to do good; and depraved, indeed, must 
be that individual who rises unbenefited from their perusal. 
The contrast between the language of this little volume, 
and the style of the Rambler, is striking in the extreme, 
and a strong proof of the judgment, the humility, and the 
piety of the author. AVith a deep sense of human frailty 
and individual error, he addresses the throne of mercy in 
a strain remarkable for its simplicity and plainness; but 
which, though totally stripped of the decorations of art, 
possesses a native dignity, approaching to that which we 
receive from our most excellent liturgy. 



396 JOHNSONIANA. 



Part XXXII. 

ANECDOTES, OPINIONS, AND REMARKS, 
BY VARIOUS PERSONS. 



597. Osborne knocked down with a Folio.[*) 

Tom Osborne, the bookseller, was one of " that mer- 
cantile rugged race to which the delicacy of the poet is 
sometimes exposed;" (t) as the following anecdote will 
more fully evince. Mr. Johnson being engaged by him 
to translate a work of some consequence, he thought it a 
respect which he owed his own talents, as well as the 
credit of his employer, to be as circumspect in the per- 
formance of it as possible. In consequence of which, the 
Avork went on, according to Osborne's ideas, rather slowly: 
in consequence, he frequently spoke to Johnson of this 
circumstance; and, being a man of a coarse mind, some- 
times by his expressions made him feel the situation of de- 
pendence. Johnson, however, seemed to take no notice of 
him, but went on according to the plan which he had pre- 
scribed to himself. Osborne, irritated by what he thought 
an unnecessary delay, went one day into the room where 
Johnson was sitting, and abused him in the most illiberal 
manner: amongst other things, he told Johnson, " he had 
been much mistaken in his man; that he was recommended 
to him as a good scholar, and a ready hand: but he doubted 

(*) fNos. 596 — 607, are from the " Life of Samuel Johnson, 
LL.D." 8to. published by G. Kearsley, in 1785.] 
(t) Johnson's Life of Dryden. 



KEARSLEY. 397 

both; for that Tom such-a-one would have turned out 
the Avork much sooner; and that being the case, the proba- 
bility was, that by this here time the first edition would 
have moved off." Johnson heard him for some time un- 
moved; but, at last, losing all patience, he seized a huge 
folio, which he was at that time consulting, and, aiming a 
blow at the bookseller's head, succeeded so forcibly, as to 
send him sprawling to the floor. Osborne alarmed the 
family with his cries; but Johnson, clapping his foot on 
his breast, would not let him stir till he had exposed him 
in that situation; and then left him, with this triumphant ex- 
pression, " Lie there, thou son of dulness, ignorance, and 
obscurity!"(*) 

598. Savage. 

Johnson was not unacquainted with Savage's frailties; 
but, as he, a short time before his death, said to a friend, 
on this subject, " he knew his heart, and that was never 
intentionally abandoned; for, though he generally mistook 
the love for the practice of virtue, he was at all times a 
true and sincere believer." 

599. Trotter's Portrait of Johnson. 

The head at the front of this book is esteemed a good 
likeness of Johnson; indeed, so much so, that when the 
Doctor saw the drawing, he exclaimed, " Well, thou art 
an ugly fellow; but still, I believe thou art like the origi- 
nal." The Doctor sat for this picture to Mr. Trotter, in 
February, 1782, at the request of Mr. Kearsley, who had 
just furnished him with a list of all his works; for he con- 
fessed he had forgot more than half what he had written. 
His face, however, was capable of great expression, both 
in respect to intelligence and mildness; as all those can 
witness who have seen him in the flow of conversation, or 
under the influence of grateful feelings. 

(*) ["The identical book with which Johnson knocked down 
Osborne {Biblia Graca Septnaginta, fol. 1594, Frankfort; the note 
written by the Rev. Mills) I saw in February, 1812, at Cam- 
bridge, in the possession of J. Thorpe, bookseller; whose cata- 
logue, since published, contains particulars authenticating this 
assertion." — Nichols: Lit. Anec. viii. p. 44(i.] 



398 JOHNSONIANA. 

600. Hawheswortli' s ""^Ode on Life.''^ 

Some time previous to Hawkesworth's publication of his 
beautiful " Ode on Life," he carried it down with him to 
a friend's house in the country to retouch. Johnson was 
of this party; and, as Hawkesworth and the Doctor lived 
upon the most intimate terms, the former read it to him for 
his opinion. " Why, sir," says Johnson, " I can't well 
determine on a first hearing; read it again, second thoughts 
are best." Hawkesworth did so; after which Johnson 
read it himself, and approved of it very highly. Next 
morning at breakfast, the subject of the poem being re- 
newed, Johnson, after again expressing his approbation of 
it, said he had but one objection to make to it, which was, 
that he doubted its originality. Hawkesworth, alarmed at 
this, challenged him to the proof, when the Doctor repeated 
the whole of the poem, with only the omission of a few 
lines. "What do you say to that, Hawkey?" said the 
Doctor. " Only this," replied the other, " that I shall 
never repeat anything I write before you again; for you 
have a memory that would convict any author of plagiarism 
in any court of literature in the world." I have now the 
poem before me, and I find it contains no less than sixty- 
eight lines. 

601. Projected Dictionary of Commerce. 

Soon after the publication of the English Dictionary, 
Johnson made a proposal to a number of booksellers, con- 
vened for that purpose, of writing a Dictionary of Trade 
and Commerce. This proposal went round the room with- 
out any answer, when a well-known son of the trade, re- 
markable for the abruptness of his manners, replied, "Why, 
Doctor, what the devil do you know of trade and com- 
merce?" The Doctor very modestly answered, " Why, 
sir, not much, I must confess, in the practical line; but I 
believe I could glean, from different authors of authority 
on the subject, such materials as would answer the pur- 
pose very well." 

602. Cave. — -S"^. John's Gate. 

From his close intimacy with Cave, the proprietor of 
the Gentleman's Magazine, Johnson was much at St. John's 



*; 





a-t^-^^T^ ^ '^^'^ 




KEARSLEY. 399 

Gate, Clerkenwell, where the bookseller resided, and 
taught Garrick the way thither. Cave having been told by 
Johnson, that his friend had talents for the theatre, and 
was come to London with a view to the profession of an 
actor, expressed a wish to see him in some comic character. 
Garrick readily complied, and with a little preparation of 
the room over the great arch of St. John's Gate, and with 
the assistance of a* few journeymen printers, who were 
called together for the purpose of reading the other parts, 
represented, with all the graces of comic humour, the 
principal character in Fielding's farce of the Mock Doctor. 

G03. Emigration from Scotland. 

The emigration of the Scotch to London being a con- 
versation between the Doctor and Foote, the latter said he 
believed the number of Scotch in London were as great in 
the former as the present reign. " No, sir!" said the 
Doctor, " you are certainly wrong in your belief: but I 
see how you're deceived; you can't distinguish them now 
as formerly, for the fellows all come here breeched of late 
years." 

604. Mr. Thrale. 

" Pray, Doctor," said a gentleman to him, " is Mr. 
Thrale a man of conversation, or is he only wise and 
silent?" " Why, sir, his conversation does not show the 
tninute hand; but he strikes the hour very correctly." 

605. Scotch Gooseberries. 

On Johnson's return from Scotland, a particular friend 
of his was saying, that now he had had a view of the coun- 
try, he was in hopes it would cure him of many prejudices 
against that nation, particularly in respect to the fruits. 
" Why, yes, sir," said the Doctor; " I have found out 
that gooseberries will grow there against a south wall; but 
the skins are so tough, that it is death to the man who 
swallows one of them." 

606. Hunting. 

Being asked his opinion of hunting, he said, " It was the 
labour of the savages of North America, but the amusement 
of the gentlemen of England." 



400 JOHNSONIANA. 

607. Mrs. ThraWs Marriage ivith Piozzi. 

When Johnson was told of Mrs. Thrale's marriage with 
Piozzi, the Italian singer, he was dumb with surprise for 
some moments; at last, recovering himself, he exclaimed 
with great emotion, " Varium et mutabile semper fcemina!" 

608. Johnson's Dying Advice. 

Johnson was, in every sense of the word, a true and 
sincere believer of the Christian religion. Nor did he con- 
tent himself with a silent belief of those great mysteries by 
which our salvation is principally effected, but by a pious 
and punctual discharge of all its duties and ceremonies. 
His last advice to his friends was upon this subject, and, 
like a second Socrates, though under sentence of death 
from his infirmities, their eternal welfare was his principal 
theme. To some he enjoined it with tears in his eyes, re- 
minding them " it was the dying request of a friend, who 
had no other way of paying the large obligations he owed 
them but by this advice." Others he pressed with argu- 
ments, setting before them, from the example of all reli- 
gions, that sacrifices for sins were practised in all ages, 
and hence enforcing the belief of the Son of God sacrificing 
himself " to be a propitiation, not only for our sins, but also 
for the sins of the whole world." 

609. Johnson's Colloquial Eloquence.^*) 

Johnson spoke as he wrote. He would take up a topic, 
and utter upon it a number of the " Rambler." On a ques- 
tion, one day, at Miss Porter's, concerning the authority 
of a newspaper for some fact, he related, that a lady of his 
acquaintance implicitly believed everything she read in the 
papers; and that, by way of curing her credulity, he fabri- 
cated a story of a battle between the Russians and Turks, 
then at war; and " that it might," he said, "bear internal 
evidence of its futility, I laid the scene in an island at the 
conflux of the Boristhenes and the Danube; rivers which 
run at the distance of a hundred leagues from each other. 

(*) [Communicated to Dr. Robert Anderson by Sir Brooke 
Boothby ; who frequently enjoyed the company of Johnson at 
Lichfield and Ashbourne.] 



MOORE. 401 

The lady, however, believed the story, and never forgave 
the deception; the consequence of which was, that I lost 
an agreeable companion, and she was deprived of an inno- 
cent amusement," And he added, as an extraordinary 
circumstance, that the Russian ambassador sent in great 
haste to the printer to know from whence he had received 
the intelligence. Another time, at Dr. Taylor's, a few 
days after the death of the wife of the Rev. Mr. Kennedy, 
of Bradley, a woman of extraordinary sense, he described 
the eccentricities of the man and the woman, with a nicety 
of discrimination, and a force of language, equal to the best 
of his periodical essays. 

610. Assertion and ^rgument.{*) 

In Boswell's Life of Johnson mention is made of an ob- 
servation of his respecting the manner in which argument 
ought to be rated. As Mr. Boswell has not recorded this 
with his usual precision, and as I was present at Mr. 
Hoole's at the time mentioned by Mr. Boswell, I shall here 
insert what passed, of which I have a perfect recollection. 
Mention having been made that eounsel were to be heard 
at the bar of the House of Commons, one of the company 
at Mr. Hoole's asked Sir James Johnson if he intended to 
be present. He answered, that he believed he should not, 
because he paid little regard to the arguments of counsel at 
the bar of the House of Commons. " Wherefore do you 
pay little regard to their arguments, sir?" said Dr. Johnson. 
" Because," replied Sir James, " they argue for their fee." 
" What is it to you, sir," rejoined Dr. Johnson, " what 
they argue for? you have nothing to do with their motive, 
but you ought to weigh their argument. Sir, you seem to 
confound argument with assertion, but there is an essential 
distinction between them. Assertion is like an arrow shot 
from a long bow; the force with which it strikes depends 
on the strength of the arm that draws it. But argument is 
like an arrow from a cross-bow, which has equal force 
whether shot by a boy or a giant." The whole company 
was struck with the aptness and beauty of this illustration; 
and one of them said, " That is, indeed, one of the most 
just and admirable illustrations that I ever heard in my 

(*) [From Dr. John Moore's Life of Smollett.] 
26 



402 JOHNSONIANA. 

life." " Sir," said Dr. Johnson, " the illustration is none 
of mine — you will find it in Bacon." 

611. Uttoxeter — Expiatory Penance. {^*) 

During the last visit which the Doctor made to Lich- 
field, the friends with whom he was staying missed him 
one morning at the breakfast-table. On inquiring after 
him of the servants, they understood he had set off from 
Lichfield at a very early hour, without mentioning to any 
of the family whither he was going. The day passed 
without the return of the illustrious guest, and the party 
began to be very uneasy on his account, when, just before 
the siipper-hour, the door opened, and the Doctor stalked 
into the room. A solemn silence of a few minutes ensued, 
nobody daring to inquire the cause of his absence, which 
was at length relieved by Johnson addressing the lady of 
the house in the following manner: " Madam, I beg your 
pardon for the abruptness of my departure from your 
house this morning, but I was constrained to it by my 
conscience. Fifty years ago, madam, on this day, I com- 
mitted a breach of filial piety, which has ever since lain 
heavy on my mind, and has not till this day been expiated. 
My father, you recollect, was a bookseller, and had long 
been in the habit of attending Uttoxeter market, and open- 
ing a stall for the sale of his books during that day. Con- 
fined to his bed by indisposition, he requested me, this 
time fifty years ago, to visit the market, and attend the 
stall in his place. But, madam, my pride prevented me 
from doing my duty, and I gave my father a refusal. To 
do away the sin of this disobedience, I this day went in a 
postchaise to Uttoxeter, and going into the market at the 
time of high business, uncovered my head, and stood with 
it bare an hour before the stall which ray father had for- 
merly used, exposed to the sneers of the standers-by and 
the inclemency of the weather; a penance by which I trust 
I have propitiated Heaven for this only instance, I believe, 
of contumacy towards my father." 

(♦) [From Warner's " Tour through the Northern Counties of 
England," published in 1802.J 



NOLLEKENS. SMITH. 403 

612. Nollekens^s Bust of Johnson. (*) 

When Dr. Johnson sat to Mr. Nollekens for his bust, 
he was very much displeased at the manner in which the 
head had been loaded with hair; which the sculptor insisted 
upon, as it made him look more like an ancient poet. The 
sittings were not very favourable, which rather vexed the 
artist, who, upon opening the street door, a vulgarity he 
was addicted to, peevishly whined, " Now, Doctor, you 
did say you would give my bust half an hour before dinner, 
and the dinner has been waiting this long time." To which 
the Doctor's reply was, " Bow, wow, wow." The bust 
is a wonderfully fine one, and very like; but certainly the 
sort of hair is objectionable; having been modelled from 
the flowing locks of a sturdy Irish beggar, originally a 
street pavier, who, after he had sat an hour, refused to take 
a shilling; stating that he could have made more by 
begging. 

613. Johnson and Mrs. Thrale in Nollekens''s Studio. 

Mrs. Thrale one morning entered NoUekens's studio, 
accompanied by Dr. Johnson, to see the bust of Lord 
Mansfield, when the sculptor vociferated, " I like your 
picture by Sir Joshua very much. He tells me it's for 
Thrale, a brewer, over the water: his wife's a sharp 
woman, one of the blue-stocking people." " Nolly, 
Nolly," observed the Doctor, "I wish your maid would 
stop your foolish mouth with a blue-bag." At which Mrs. 
Thrale smiled, and whispered to the Doctor, " My dear 
sir, you'll get nothing by blunting your arrows upon a 
block." 

614. Johnson''s Silver Tea-Pot. 

I was one morning agreeably surprised by a letter which 
Mrs. Maria Cosway put into my hand, written by W. 
Hoper, Esq., giving me permission to make a drawing of 
Dr. Johnson's silver tea-pot in his possession. Upon the 
side of this tea-pot the following inscription is engraven: 

(*) [This and the two following are from " Nollekens and his 
Times, by John Thomas Smith, Keeper of the Prints and Draw- 
ings in the British Museum," 8vo. 1828.] 



404 JOHNSONIANA. 

" We are told by Lucian, that the earthen lamp, which 
had administered to the lucubrations of Epictetus, was at 
his death purchased for the enormous sum of three thou- 
sand drachmas: why, then, may not imagination equally 
amplify the value of this unadorned vessel, long employed 
for the infusion of that favourite herb, whose enlivening 
virtues are said to have so often protracted the elegant 
and edifying lucubrations of Samuel Johnson; the zealous 
advocate of that innocent beverage, against its declared 
enemy, Jonas Hanway?" It was weighed out for sale, 
under the inspection of Sir John Hawkins, at the very 
minute when they were in the next room closing the inci- 
sion through which Mr. Cruickshank had explored the 
ruined machinery of its dead master's thorax. So Bray 
(the silversmith, conveyed there in Sir John's carriage, 
tlms hastily to buy the plate,) informed its present pos- 
sessor, Henry Constantine Nowell; by whom it was, for 
its celebrated services, on the 1st of November, 1788, 
rescued from the indiscriminating obliterations of the fur- 
nace. 

615. Johnson's TVatch and Punch- Bowl. 

The ensuing is an answer to one of my interrogatory 
epistles. It is from my friend, the Rev. Hugh Pailye, 
canon of Lichfield: — " I certainly am in possession of Dr. 
Johnson's watch, which I purchased from his black ser- 
vant, Francis Barber. His punch-bowl is likewise in my 
possession, and was purchased by the Rev. Thomas Har- 
wood, the historian, of Lichfield. It was bought at Mrs. 
Harwood's sale, by John Barker Scott, Esq., who after- 
wards presented it to me." 

616. Dialogue at Dilly's behveen Mrs. Knowles and 
Dr. Johnson. (*) 

Mrs. K. Thy friend, Jenny Harry, desires her kind re- 
spects to thee. Doctor. 

(*) [See Life, vol. iv. p. 157; and No. 500 of this volnme. 
" The narrative of Boswell," says Mr. Nichols {Lit. Jllust., vol. 
iv. p. 831), not proving satisfactory to Molly Knowles (as she was 
familiarly styled), she gave the Dialogue between herself and the 
sturdy moralist, in her own manner, in the Gent, Mag. vol. Ixi, 



MfeS. KNOWLES. 405 

Dr. J. To me! Tell me not of her! I hate the odious 
wench for her apostacy; and it is you, madam, who have 
seduced her from the Christian religion. 

Mrs. K. This is a heavy charge, indeed. I must beg 
leave to be heard in my own defence; and I entreat the 
attention of the present learned and candid company, de- 
siring them to judge how far I am able to clear myself of 
so cruel an accusation. 

Dr. J. {much disturbed at this unexpected challenge) 
said, You are a woman, and I give you quarter. 

Mrs. K. I will not take quarter. There is no sex in 
souls; and in the present cause, I fear not even Dr. John- 
son himself. — ("Bravo!" was repeated by the company, and' 
silence ensued.) 

Dr. J. Well then, madam, I persist in my charge, that 
you have seduced Miss Harry from the Christian religion. 

Mrs. K. If thou really knewest what were the princi- 
ples of the Friends, thou wouldst not say she had departed 
from Christianity. But, Avaiving that discussion for the 
present, I will take the liberty to observe, that she had an 
undoubted right to examine and to change her educational 
tenets, whenever she supposed she had found them erro- 
neous: as an accountable creature, it was her duty so to do. 

Dr. J. Pshaw! pshaw! — An accountable creature! — 
Girls accountable creatures! It was her duty to remain 
with the church wherein she was educated: she had no 
business to leave it. 

Mrs. K. What! not for that which she apprehended to 
be better? According to this rule, Doctor, hadst thou been 
born in Turkey, it had been thy duty to have remained a 
Mahometan, notwithstanding Christian evidence might 
have wrought in thy mind the clearest conviction! and, if 
so, then let me ask, how would thy conscience have an- 
swered for such obstinacy at the great and last tribunal? 

Dr. J. My conscience would not have been answerable. 

Mrs. K. Whose, then, would? 

Dr. J. Why the state, to be sure. In adhering to the 
religion of the state, as by law established, our implicit 
obedience therein becomes our duty. 

p. 500 " In 1805, Mrs. Knowles had it reprinted in a small pam- 
pblet. She died in 1807, at the age of eighty.] 



406 JOHNSONIANA. 

Mrs. K. a nation, or state, having a conscience, is a 
doctrine entirely new to me, and, indeed, a very curious 
piece of intelligence; for I have always understood that a 
government, or state, is a creature of time only; beyond 
which it dissolves, and becomes a nonentity. Now, gen- 
tlemen, can your imagination body forth this monstrous 
individual, or being, called a state, composed of millions of 
people? Can you behold it stalking forth into the next 
world, loaded with its mighty conscience, there to be re- 
warded or punished, for the faith, opinions, and conduct, 
of its constituent machines called men? Surely the teem- 
ing brain of poetry never held up to the fancy so wondrous 
a personage! (TVhen the laugh occasioned by the per- 
sonification was subsided, the Doctor very angrily re- 
plied,) 

Dr. J. I regard not what you say as to that matter. I 
hate the arrogance of the wench in supposing herself a 
more competent judge of religion than those who educated 
her. She imitated you, no doubt; but she ought not to 
have presumed to determine for herself in so important an 
affair. 

Mrs. K. True, Doctor, T grant it, if, as thou seemest to 
imply, a wench of twenty years be not a moral agent. 

Dr. J. I doubt it would be difficult to prove those de- 
serve that character who turn Quakers. 

Mrs. K. This severe retort. Doctor, induces me chari- 
tably to hope thou must be totally unacquainted with the 
principles of the people against whom thou art so exceed- 
ingly prejudiced, and that thou supposest us a set of infidels 
or deists. 

Dr. J. Certainly, I do think you little better than deists. 

Mrs. K. This is indeed strange; 'tis passing strange, 
that a man of such universal reading and research, has not 
thought it at least expedient to look into the cause of dissent 
of a society so long established, and so conspicuously 
singular! 

Dr. J. Not I, indeed! I have not read your Barclay's 
Apology; and for this plain reason — I never thought it 
worth my while. You are upstart sectaries, perhaps the 
best subdued by a silent contempt. 

Mrs. K. This reminds me of the language of the rabbis 
of old, when their hierarchy was alarmed by the increasing 



MRS. KNOWLES. 407 

influence, force, and simplicity of dawning truth, in their 
high day of worldly dominion. We meekly trust, our 
principles stand on the same solid foundation of simple 
truth; and we invite the acutest investigation. The reason 
thou givest for not having read Barclay's Apology, is surely 
a very improper one for a man whom the world looks up 
to as a moral philosopher of the first rank; a teacher, from 
whom they think they have a right to expect much infor- 
mation. To this expecting, inquiring world, how can Dr. 
Johnson acquit himself, for remaining unacquainted with a 
book translated into five or six diff'erent languages, and 
which has been admitted into the libraries of almost every 
court and university in Christendom! — [Here the Doctor 
grew very angry, still more so at the space of time the 
gentlemen alloived his antagonist wherein to make her 
defence; and his impatience excited Mr. Boswell himself 
in a whisper to say, " I never saw this mighty lion so 
chafed before!") 

The Doctor again repeated, that he did not think the 
Quakers deserved the name of Christians. 

Mrs. K. Give me leave, then, to endeavour to convince 
thee of thy error, which I will do by making before thee, 
and this respectable company, a confession of our faith. 
Creeds, or confessions of faith, are admitted by all to be 
the standard whereby Ave judge of every denomination of 
professors. — (Tb this every one present agreed; and even 
the Doctor grumbled out his assent.) 

Mrs. K. Well, then, I take upon me to declare, that 
the people called Quakers do verily believe in the Holy 
Scriptures, and rejoice with the most full and reverential 
acceptance of the divine history of facts as recorded in the 
New Testament. That we, consequently, fully believe 
those historical articles summed up in what is called the 
Apostles' Creed, with these two exceptions only, to wit, 
our Saviour's descent into hell, and the resurrection of the 
body. These mysteries we humbly leave just as they 
stand in the holy text; there being, from that ground, no 
authority for such assertion as is drawn up in the Creed. 
And now. Doctor, canst thou still deny to us the honour- 
able title of Christians? 

Dr. J. Well! I must own I did not at all suppose you 
had so much to say for yourselves. However, I cannot 



408 JOHNSONIANA. 

forgive that little slut, for presuming to take upon herself 
as she has done. 

Mrs. K. I hope, Doctor, thou wilt not remain unfor- 
giving; and that you will renew your friendship, and joy- 
fully meet at last in those bright regions where pride and 
prejudice can never enter! 

Dr. J, Meet her! I never desire to meet fools any- 
where. — (This sarcastic turn of wit was so pleasantly 
received, that the Doctor joined in the laugh: his spleen 
ivas dissipated; he took his coffee, and became, for the 
remainder of the evening, very cheerful and entertaining.) 

617. Rebuke to a talkative Lady. (*) 

He was one day in conversation with a very talkative 
lady, of whom he appeared to take very little notice. 
" Why, Doctor, I believe you prefer the company of men 
to that of the ladies." " Madam," replied he, " I am 
very fond of the company of ladies; I like their beauty, I 
like their delicacy, I like their vivacity, and I like their 
silence." 

618. Building without a Scaffold. 

Johnson was much pleased with a French expression 
made use of by a lady towards a person whose head was 
confused with a multitude of knowledge, at which he had 
not arrived in a regular and principled way, — "// a bdti 
sans echcfaud," — " he has built without his scaffold." 

619. Love of Literature. 

Dr. Johnson was of opinion that the happiest, as well as 
the most virtuous, persons were to be found amongst those 
who united with a business or profession a love of litera- 
ture. 

620. Marriage. — Choice of a Wife. 

He was constantly earnest with his friends, when they 
had thoughts of marriage, to look out for a religious wife. 
"A principle of honour or fear of the world," added he, 

(♦) [Anecdotes 617 to 629, were communicated by William 
Seward, Esq., author of " Biographiana, &c.," to Isaac Reed, 
Esq., for insertion in the European Magazine.] 



SEWARD. 409 

" will many times keep a man in decent order; but when 
a woman loses her religion, she, in general, loses the only 
tie that will restrain her actions: Plautus, in his Amphy- 
trio, makes Alcmena say beautifully to her husband, — 

" Non ego illam mihi dotem duco esse, quae dos dicilur, 
Sed pudiciliam, et pudorem, et sedatum cnpidinem, 
DeCim metum, pareniGtn amorom, et cognalftin concordiam; 
Tibi morigera, atque ui munifica sim bonis, prosim probis." 

62 1 . Tired of London. 

He was once told that a friend of his, who had long 
lived in the metropolis, M^as about to quit it, to retire into 
the country, as being tired of London: " Say rather, sir,'' 
said Johnson, " that he is tired of life." 

622. Grammar, Writing, and Arithmetic. 

Dr. Johnson was extremely adverse to the present fop- 
pish mode of educating children, so as to make them what 
foolish mothers call " elegant young men." He said to 
some lady who asked him what she should teach her son 
in early life, " Madam, to read, to write, to count; gram- 
mar, writing, and arithmetic; three things which, if not 
taught in very early life, are seldom or ever taught to any 
purpose, and without the knowledge of which no super- 
structure of learning or of knowledge can be built." 

623. Hartley on Man. 

Dr. Johnson one day observing a friend of his packing 
up the two volumes of " Observations on Man," written 
by this great and good man, to take into the country, said, 
" Sir, you do right to take Dr. Hartley with you." Dr. 
Priestley said of him, " that he had learned more from 
Harfley, than from any book he had ever read, except the 
Bible." 

624. Love of Change. 

The Doctor used to say that he once knew a man of so 
vagabond a disposition, that he even wished, for the sake 
of change of place, to go to the West Indies. He set off 
on this expedition, and the Doctor saw him in town four 
months afterwards. Upon asking him, why he had not put 
his plan in execution, he replied, " I have returned these 



410 JOHNSONIAN A. 

ten days from the West Indies. The sight of slavery was 
so horrid to me, that I could only stay two days in one of 
the islands." This man, who had once been a man of 
literature, and a private tutor to some young men of conse- 
quence, became so extremely torpid and careless in point 
of further information, that the Doctor, when he called 
upon him one day, and asked him to lend him a book, was 
told by him, that he had not one in the house. 

625. Secrecy. 

An ancient had long ago said, " All secrecy is an evil," 
Johnson, in his strong manner, said, " Nothing ends more 
fatally than mysteriousness in trifles: indeed, it commonly 
ends in guilt; for those who begin by concealment of inno- 
cent things, will soon have something to hide which they 
dare not bring to light." 

626. Rochefoucault. 

Johnson used to say of the Due de Rochefoucault, that 
he was one of the few gentlemen writers, of whom authors 
hy profession had occasion to be afraid. 

627. Investment of Money 

A friend of Johnson, an indolent man, succeeding to a 
moderate sum of money on the death of his father, asked 
the Doctor how he should lay it out. " Half on mortgage," 
said he, " and half in the funds: you have then," continued 
he, " the two best securities for it that your country can 
afford. Take care, however, of the character of the person 
to whom you lend it on mortgage; see that he is a man of 
exactness and regularity, and lives within his income. 
The money in the funds you are sure of at every emer- 
gency; it is always at hand, and may be resorted to on 
every occasion." 

628. The Eucharist. 

The learned and excellent Charles Cole having once 
mentioned to him a book lately published on the Sacra- 
ment, he replied, " Sir, I look upon the sacrament as the 
palladium or our religion: I hope that no profane hands 
will venture to touch it." 



PEPYS. 411 



629, Johnson at Ttinbridge Wells. 

In the summer of 1748, Johnson, for the sake of relaxa- 
tion from his literary labours, and probably also for Mrs. 
Johnson's health, visited Tunbridge Wells, then a place of 
much greater resort than it is at present. In a draAving by 
Loggan, representing some of the " remarkable characters 
who were at Tunbridge Wells in 1748," Dr. Johnson 
stands the first figure. On the opposite side his wife is 
represented; as are also Garrick, Cibber, Speaker Onslow, 
Lord Chatham, Lord Lyttelton, Miss Chudleigh, and seve- 
ral celebrated persons; and in this assemblage, neither 
Johnson nor his wife exhibit any appearance of inferiority 
to the rest of the company. (*) 

630. ''Life of Lord Lyttelton:'— Mr. Pepys. (t) 

I have within these few days received the following 
paragraph in a letter from a friend of mine in Ireland: — 
" Johnson's Characters of some Poets breathe such incon- 
sistency, such absurdity, and such want of taste and feel- 
ing, that it is the opinion of the Count of Narbonne,(X) 
Sir N. Barry, and myself, that Mrs. Montagu should ex- 
pose him in a short publication. He deserves it almost as 
much -as Voltaire — if not, Lytteltoni gratia, do it your- 
self." I met him some time ago at Streatham,(§) and 
such a day did we pass in disputation upon the life of our 
dear friend Lord Lyttelton, as I trust it will never be my 
fate to pass again! The moment the cloth was removed, 
he challenged me to come out (as he called it), and say 
what I had to object to his Life of Lord Lyttelton. This, 

(*) [See Boswell, vol. i, p. 165— C] 

(tj [From a Letter from Mr. Pepys to Mrs. Montagu, in the 
Montagu MSS., dated August 4, 1781. It shows how very vio- 
lently, and on what slight grounds, the friends of Lord Lyttelton 
resisted Johnson's treatment of him. Now that personal feelings 
have subsided, the readers of the Life will wonder at Mr. Pepys's 
extravagant indignation ; and we have seen (^Life, vol. iv. p. 426), 
that Johnson cared so little about the matter, that he was willing 
that the Life should have been written for him, by one of Lord 
Lyttelton's friends. — C] 

{%) [Robert Jephson, Esq., author of " Braganza" and the 
" Cou))L de Narbonne." He died in 1803.— C] 

(§) [See No. 64.] 



412 JOHNSONIANA. 

you see, was a call which, however disagreeable to myself 
and the rest of the company, I could not but obey, and so 
to it we went for three or four hours without ceasing. 
He once observed, that it was the duty of a biographer to 
state all the failings of a respectable character. I never 
longed to do anything so much as to "assume his own 
principle, and go into a detail which I could suppose his 
biographer might, in some future time, think necessary; 
but I contented myself with generals. He took great 
credit for not having mentioned the coarseness of Lord 
Lyttelton''s manners. I told him, that if he would insert 
that (*) in the next edition, I would excuse him all the 
rest. We shook hands, however, at parting; which put 
me much in mind of the parting between Jacques and 
Orlando — ' God be with you; let us meet as seldom as we 
can! Fare you well; I hope we shall be better strangers!'(t) 
We have not met again till last Tuesday, and then I must 
do him the justice to say, that he did all in his power to 
show me that he was sorry for the former attack. But 
what hurts me all this while is, not that Johnson should 
go unpunished, but that our dear and respectable friend 
should go down to posterity with that artful and studied 
contempt thrown upon his character which he so little de- 
served, and that a man who (notwithstanding the little foi- 
bles he might have) was in my opinion one of the most 
exalted patterns of virtue, liberality, and benevolence, not 
to mention the high rank which he held in literature, 
should be handed down to succeeding generations under 
the appellation of poor Lyttelton! This, I must own, 
vexes and disquiets me whenever I think of it; and had I 
the command of half your powers, tempered as they are 
with that true moderation and justice, he should not sleep 

(*) [On the principle— 

" Quis tulerit Gracchos de seditione querentes" — 

Pepys thought, justly enough, that a charge of coarseness of man- 
ners made of Johnson against Lord Lyltelton would be so ridicu- 
lous as to defeat all the rest by his censure.— C] 

(t) [" Now," says Dr. Johnson, the moment he was gone, "is 
Pepys gone home haling me, who love him better than I did be- 
fore : he spoke in defence cf his dead friend ; but though I hope / 
spoke belter who spoke against him, yet all my eloquence will 
gain me nothing but an honest man for my enemy." — Piozzi.j 



CARTER. 413 

within his silent grave, I do not say unrevenged (because 
that is not what I wish), but unvindicated, and unrescued 
from that contempt which has been so industriously and so 
injuriously thrown upon him." 

631. Blue Stocking Parties. [*) 

Nothing could be more agreeable, nor indeed more in- 
structive, than these parties. Mrs. Vesey had the almost 
magic art of putting all her company at their ease, without 
the least appearance of design. Here was no formal circle, 
to petrify an unfortunate stranger on his entrance; no rules 
of conversation to observe; no holding forth of one to his 
own distress, and the stupefying of his audience; no read- 
ing of his works by the author. The company naturally 
broke into litde groups, perpetually varying and changing. 
They talked or were silent, sat or walked about, just as 
they pleased. Nor was it absolutely necessary even to 
talk sense. There was no bar to harmless mirth and 
gaiety; and while perhaps Dr. Johnson in one corner held 
forth on the moral duties, in another, two or three young 
people might be talking of the fashions and the Opera; and 
in a third. Lord Orford (then Mr. Horace Walpole) might 
be amusing a little group around him with his lively wit 
and intelligent conversation. Now and then perhaps Mrs- 
Vesey might call the attention of the company in general 
to some circumstance of news, politics, or literature of pe- 
culiar importance; or perhaps to an anecdote, or interesting 
account of some person known to the company in general. 
Of this last kind a laughable circumstance occurred about 
the year 1778, when Mrs. Carter was confined to her bed 
with a fever, which was thought to be dangerous. She 
was attended by her brother-in-law. Dr. Douglas, then a 
physician in town, and he was in the habit of sending bul- 
letins of the state of her health to her most intimate friends, 
with many of whom he was well acquainted himself. At 
one of Mrs. Vesey's parties a note was brought to her, 
which she immediately saw was from Mr. Douglas. 
" Oh!'' said she, before she opened it, " this contains an 
account of our dear Mrs. Carter. We are all interested in 



(*) [This and the following are from Pennington's "Memoirs 
of Mrs. Carter."] 



414 JOHNSONIANA. 

her health: Dr. Johnson, pray read it out for the informa- 
tion of the company." There Avas a profound silence; and 
the Doctor, with the utmost gravity, read aloud the phy- 
sician's report of the happy effect which Mrs. Carter's 
medicines had produced, with a full and complete account 
of the circumstances attending them. 

632. Mrs. Carter on Johnson's Death. 

I see by the papers (says Mrs. Carter, in a letter to 
Mrs. Montagu,) that Dr. Johnson is dead. In extent of 
learning, and exquisite purity of moral writing, he has 
left no superior, and I fear very few equals. His virtues 
and his piety were founded on the steadiest of Christian 
principles and faith. His faults, I firmly believe, arose 
from the irritations of a most suffering state of nervous 
constitution, which scarcely ever allowed him a moment's 
ease. You wonder " that an undoubted believer and a 
man of piety should be afraid of death;" but it is such 
characters who have ever the deepest sense of their imper- 
fections and deviations from the rule of duty, of which the 
very best must be conscious; and such a temper of mind 
as is struck with awe and humility at the prospect of the 
last solemn sentence appears much better suited to the 
wretched deficiencies of the best human performances than 
the thoughtless security that rushes undisturbed into eter- 
nity. — To this passage the editor of Mrs. Carter's Letters 
subjoins: — " Mrs. Carter informed the editor, that in one 
of the last conversations which she had with this eminent 
moralist, she told him that she had never known him say 
anything contrary to the* principles of the Christian reli- 
gion. He seized her hand with great emotion, exclaim- 
ing, ' You know this, and bear witness to it when I am 
gone!' " 

633. Johnson and Coxe.{*) 

When I was last (says Lord Chedworth) in town, I 
dined in company with the eminent Mr. C.,(t) of whom 
I did not form a high opinion. He asserted, that Dr. 

(*) [From Lord Ched worth's Letters to the Rev. Mr. Crompton.] 
(t) [Mr. Crompton informs me, that this was the Rev. William 
Coxe, who had recently published his travels. — C] 



CHEDWORTH. WARNER. 415 

Johnson originally intended to abuse " Paradise Lost;" 
but being informed that the nation Avould not bear it, he 
produced the critique which now stands in the " Life of 
Milton," and which he admitted to be excellent. I con- 
tended that Dr. Johnson had there expressed his real 
opinion, which no man was less afraid of delivering than 
Dr. Johnson; that the critique was written con amore; 
and that the work was praised with such a glow of fond- 
ness, and the grounds of that praise were so fully and 
satisfactorily unfolded, that it was impossible Dr. Johnson 
should not have felt the value of the work, which he had 
so liberally and rationally commended. It came out after- 
wards that Dr. Johnson had disgusted Mr. C. He had 
supped at Thrale's one night, when he sat near the upper 
end of the table, and Dr. Johnson near the lower end; 
and having related a long story which had very much de- 
lighted the company, in the pleasure resulting from which 
relation Dr. Johnson had not (from his deafness and the 
distance at which he sat) participated, Mrs. Thrale desired 
him to retell it to the Doctor. C. complied, and going 
down to the bottom of the table, bawled it over again in 
Dr. Johnson's ear: when he had finished, Johnson re- 
plied, '' So, sir, and this you relate as a good thing:" at 
which C. fired. He added to us, " Now, it was a good 
thing, because it was about the king of Poland." Of the 
value of the story, as he did not relate it, I cannot judge; 
but I am sure you will concur with me that it was not 
therefore necessarily a good thing because it was about a 
king. I think Johnson's behaviour was indefensibly rude; 
but, from the sample I had of C.'s conversation, I am led 
to suspect that Johnson's censure was not unfounded. 

634. Biography. (*) 

Mr. Fowke's conversation was sprightly and entertain- 
ing, highly seasoned with anecdotes, many of which related 
to his great and venerable friend Dr. Johnson; among these, 
he was accustomed to relate the following: — Mr. Fowke 
once observed to Dr. Johnson, that, in his opinion, the 
Doctor's strength lay in writing biography, in which line 

(*) [Nos. 634 and 635, are from "Original Letters; edited by 
R. Warner, of Bath, 1803."] 



416 JOHNSONIANA. 

of composition he infinitely exceeded all his competitors. 
" Sir," said Johnson, " I believe that is true. The dogs 
don't know how to write trifles with dignity." 

635. Colley Cibher. 

Speaking of the difficulty of getting information for the 
" Lives of the Poets," he said, that when he was young, 
and wanted to write the " Life of Dryden," he desired to 
be introduced to Colley Gibber, from whom he expected 
to procure many valuable materials for his purpose. " So, 
sir," said Johnson to Gibber, " I find you know Mr. 
Dryden?" " Know him? O Lord! I was as well acquainted 
with him as if he had been my own brother." " Then 
you can tell me some anecdotes of him?" "• O yes, a thou- 
sand! Why, we used to meet him continually at a club at 
Button's. I remember as well as if it were but yesterday, 
that when he came into the room in winter time, he used 
to go and sit close by the fire in one corner; and that in 
summer time he would always go and sit in the window." 
" Thus, sir," said Johnson, " what with the corner of the 
fire in winter, and the window in summer, you see that I 
got much information from Gibber, of the manners and 
habits of Dryden." 

636. Family Prayers.(^*) 

During Dr. Johnson's visit to Oxford in June, 1784, hia 
friend Dr. Adams expressed an earnest wish that he would 
compose some family prayers; upon which Johnson replied: 
" I will not compose prayers for you, sir, because you can 
do it for yourself; but I have thought of getting together 
all the books of prayers which I could, selecting those 
which should appear to me the best, putting out some, 
inserting others, adding some prayers of my own, and 
prefixing a discourse on prayer." I3y the following MS., 
Dr. Johnson appears to have put to paper some prepara- 
tory notes on this subject: — 

" PRECES 

Against the incursion of evil thoughts. 

Repentance and pardon. — Laud. 

In disease. 



(*) [From the Anderson MSS.] 



BURKE. SAVAGE.— BOSWELL. 417 

On the loss of friends — by death; by his own fault or 

friend's. 

On the unexpected notice of the death of others. 

Prayer generally recommendaiory; 

To understand their prayers; 

Under dread of death; 

Prayer commonly considered as a slated and temporary duty — 
performed and forgotten — without any effect on the following day. 

Prayer — a vow. — Taylor. 

SCEPTICISM CAUSED BY 

1. Indifference about opinions. 

2. Supposition that things disputed are disputable. 

3. Demand of unsuitable evidence. 

4. False judgment of evidence. 

."j. Complaint of the obscurity of Scripture. 

6. Contempt of fathers and of authority. 

7. Absurd method of learning objections first. 

8. Study not for truth but vanity. 

9. Sensuality and a vicious life. 
10 False honour, false shame. 

11. Omission of prayer and religious exercises. — Oct. 31, 1784.'-' 

637. Burke and Johnson.(*) 

In the vicissitudes of twenty-seven years, no estrange- 
ment occurred to interrupt their mutual admiration and re- 
gard. Burke followed Johnson to the grave as a mourner; 
and in contemplating his character, applied to it a fine 
passage from Cicero, which might equally suit his own: — 
Intentum enim animum quasi arcwn habebat, nee lan- 
guescens succumbebat scnectuti. When some one cen- 
sured Johnson's general rudeness in society, he replied 
with equal consideration and truth, " It is well, when a 
man comes to die, if he has nothing worse to accuse him- 
self of than some harshness in conversation." 

638. Savage. — Boswell.(^) 

"Savage," said Dr. Adam Smith, "was but a worth- 
less fellow; his pension of fifty pounds never lasted him 
above a few days. As a sample of his economy, you may 
take a circumstance that Johnson himself told me. It 
was, at that period, fashionable to wear scarlet cloaks 
trimmed with gold lace: the Doctor met him one day, 

(*) [From " Prior's Life of Burke."] 

(t) [From the Buchan MSS., in the possession of Mr. Upcott.] 
27 



418 JOHNSONIANA. 

just after he had received his pension, with one of these 
cloaks upon his back, while, at the same time, his naked 
toes were peeping through his shoes." — " Boswell was my 
relative by his mother, who was a daughter of Colonel 
Erskine, of the Alva family, descended from our common 
ancestor, John Earl of Marr, governor to Henry Prince 
of Wales, and Lord Treasurer of Scotland. In conse- 
quence of a letter he wrote me I desired him to call at 
Mr. Pitt's, and took care to be with him when he was in- 
troduced. Mr. Pitt was then in the Duke of Grafton's 
house in Great Bond Street. Boswell came in the Cor- 
sican dress, and presented a letter from Paoli. Lord 
Chatham smiled, but received him very graciously in his 
pompous manner. Boswell had genius, but wanted bal- 
last to counteract his whim. He preferred being a show- 
man to keeping a shop of his own." (Endorsed on a 
letter from Boswell to Lord Buchan, dated Jan. 5, 1767.) 

639. "^ respectable Man.'^"^') 

Mr. Barclay, from his connection with Mr. Thrale, 
had several opportunities of meeting and conversing with 
Dr. Johnson. On his becoming a partner in the brewery, 
Johnson advised him not to allow his commercial pursuits 
to divert his attention from his studies. " A mere literary 
man," said the Doctor, " is a dull man; a man who is 
solely a man of business is a selfish man; but when litera- 
ture and commerce are united, they make a respectable 
man."(t) 

640. Johnson at ThraWs. 

Mr. Barclay had never observed any rudeness or vio- 
lence on the part of Johnson. He has seen Boswell lay 
down his knife and fork, and take out his tablets, in order 
to register a good anecdote. When Johnson proceeded 
to the dining-room, one of Mr. Thrale's servants handed 

(*) [This and the two following were communicated to Mr. 
Markland, by Robert Barclay, Esq., of Bury Hill, Dorking. This 
excellent man died in 1831.] 

(t) This advice will be found to accord pretty closely with 
Johnson's epitaph on Mr. Thrale: — " Domi inter mille mercan- 
turee negotia, literatum elegantiam minime neglexit." — Mark- 
land.] 



COLE. 419 

him a wig of a smarter description than the one he wore 
in the morning; the exchange took place in the hall, or 
passage. Johnson, like many other men, was always in 
much better humour after dinner than before. 

641. "^n Old Man's Blessing:' 

Mr. Barclay saw Johnson ten days before he died, when 
the latter observed, " That they should never meet more. 
Have you any objection to receive an old man's blessing?" 
Mr. Barclay knelt down, and Johnson gave him his bless- 
ing with great fervency. 

642. ''Honest Whigs:' 

The following scrap is picked out of Cole's voluminous 
collections in the British Museum. It appears in the shape 
of a note to his transcript of a Tour through England, in 
1735, written by John Whaley, Fellow of King's College, 
Cambridge. Mr. Whaley says: "October 3, being the 
day of swearing in the mayor of Shrewsbury, we were 
invited by Sir Richard Corbet, the new mayor, to dine; 
which we did with much pleasure, as finding a large col- 
lection of honest Whigs met together in Shropshire." 
Cole Avrites on this: — "A very extraordinary meeting 
truly! I was told by Mr. Farmer, the present master of 
Emanuel College, that he, being in London last year (1774) 
with Mr. Arnold, tutor in St. John's College, was desired 
to introduce the latter, who had been bred a Whig, to the 
acquaintance of the very learned and sensible Dr. Samuel 
Johnson. They had not been long together, before (the 
conversation leading to it) the Doctor, addressing himself 
to Mr. Arnold, said, " Sir! you are a young man, but I 
have seen a great deal of the world, and take it upon my 
word and experience, that where you see a Whig, you see 
a rascal!" Mr. Farmer said, he was startled, and rather 
uneasy that the Doctor had expressed himself so bluntly, 
and was apprehensive that Mr. Arnold might be shocked 
and take it ill. But they laughed it off, and were very 
good company. I have lived all my life among this faction, 
and am in general much disposed to subscribe to the Doc- 
tor's opinion. Whatever this honest collection of Salopian 
Whigs may have been on the whole, I am as well satis- 
fied, as of anything I know, that there was one rascal. 



420 JOHNSONIANA. 

duly and truly, in the company. — W. Cole, June 26, 
1775." 

643. Johnson's Recitation of Poetry. (*) 

Dr. Johnson read serious and sublime poetry with great 
gravity and feeling. In the recital of prayers and religious 
poems he was awfully impressive, and his memory served 
him upon those occasions with great readiness. One night 
at the club, a person quoting the nineteenth psalm, the 
Doctor caught fire; and, instantly taking off his hat, began 
with great solemnity, — " The spacious firmament on high," 
&c., and went through that beautiful hymn. Those who 
were acquainted with the Doctor, knew how harsh his 
features in general were; but upon this occasion, to use 
the language of Scripture, " his face was almost as if it 
had been the face of an angel." 

644. Johnson in GarricTc's Library. 

On Garrick's showing Johnson a magnificent library full 
of books in most elegant bindings, the Doctor began run- 
ning over the volumes in his usual rough and negligent 
manner; which was, by opening the book so wide as 
almost to break the back of it, and then flung them down 
one by one on the floor with contempt. " Zounds!" said 
Garrick, " why, what are you about? you'll spoil all my 
books." " No, sir," replied Johnson, " I have done no- 
thing but treat a pack of silly plays in fops' dresses just as 
they deserve; but I see no hooks." 

645. Johnson at Dovedale. (t) 

" Dovedale is a place that deserves a visit. The river 
is small, the rocks are grand. Reynard's Hall is a cave 
very high in the rock. To the left is a small opening, 
through which I crept, and found another cavern, perhaps 
four yards square. I was in a cave yet higher, called 
Reynard's Kitchen. There is a rock called the Church, 

{♦) [This and the two following are from Cooke's "Life of 
Foote," 3 vols. 12mo. 1805.] 

(t) [From Johnson's MS. Diary of his Welsh Tour in 1774, 
now in ihe possession of the Rev. Archdeacon Butler, of Shrews- 
bury.] 



BEST. 421 

in which I saw no resemblance that could justify the name. 
Dovedale is about two miles long. We walked towards 
the head of the Dove, which is said to rise about five miles 
above two caves called the Dog-holes, at the foot of Dove- 
dale. I propose to build an arch from rock to rock over 
the stream, with a summer-house upon it. The water 
murmured pleasantly among the stones. He that has seen 
Dovedale, has no need to visit the Highlands." 

646, Johnson at Langton in 1764. (*) 

In early life (says Mr. Best) I knew Bennet Langton, of 
that ilk, as the Scotch say. With great personal claims to 
the respect of the public, he is known to that public chiefly 
as a friend of Johnson. He was a very tall, meagre, long- 
visaged man, much resembling a stork standing on one 
leg, near the shore, in Raphael's cartoon of the miraculous 
draught of fishes. His manners were in the highest de- 
gree polished; his conversation mild, equable, and always 
pleasing. I formed an intimacy with his son, and went to 
pay him a visit at Langton. After breakfast we walked to 
the top of a very steep hill behind the house. When we 
arrived at the summit, Mr. Langton said, " Poor dear Dr. 
Johnson, when he came to this spot, turned to look down 
the hill, and said he was determined ' to take a roll down.' 
When we understood what he meant to do, we endeavoured 
to dissuade him; but he was resolute, saying, ' he had not 
had a roll for a long time;' and taking out of his lesser 
pockets whatever might be in them — keys, pencil, purse, 
or pen-knife — and laying himself parallel with the edge of 
the hill, he actually descended, turning himself over and 
over till he came to the bottom." The story was told with 
such gravity, and with an air of such affectionate remem- 
brance of a departed friend, that it was impossible to sup- 
pose this extraordinary freak of the great lexicographer to 
have been a fiction or invention of Mr. Langton.(t) 

(*) [From " Persona] and Literary Memorials," 8vo. 1829.] 
(+) [Johnson at the time of his visit to Langton was in his fifty- 
fifth year.J 



422 JOHNSONIANA. 

647. Bt. Dodd.[*) 

Miss Seward, her father (the editor of Beaumont and 
Fletcher, &c.), the Rev. R. G. Robinson, of Lichfield, and 
Dr. Johnson, were passing the day at the palace at Lich- 
field, of which Mr. Seward was the occupier. The con- 
versation turned upon Dr. Dodd, who had been recently 
executed for forgery. (t) It proceeded as follows: Miss 
Seward. " I think. Dr. Johnson, you applied to see Mr. 
Jenkinson in his behalf." Johnson. " Why, yes, madam; 
I knew it was a man having no interest writing to a man 
who had no interest; but I thought with myself, when Dr. 
Dodd comes to the place of execution, he may say, ' Had 
Dr. Johnson written in my behalf, I had not been here;' 
and [with great emphasis) I could not beai- the thought!"(J) 
Miss Seward. " But, Dr. Johnson, would you have par- 
doned Dr. Dodd?" Johnson. " Madam, had I been placed 
at the head of the legislature, I should certainly have signed 
his death-warrant; though no law, either human or divine, 
forbids our deprecating punishment, either from ourselves 
or others." 

648. ''Heerd or Hard?" 

In one of his visits to Lichfield, Dr. Johnson called upon 
Mrs. Gastrell, of Stowe, near that city. She opened the 
Prayer-book, and pointed out a passage, with the wish that 
he would read it. He began: " We have heard (heerd) 
with our ears" — she stopped him, saying, " Thank you, 
Doctor! you have read all I wish. I merely wanted to 
know whether you pronounced that word heerd or hard." 
" Madam," he replied, " ' heard' is nonsense; there is but 
one word of that sound [hard) in the language." 

649. Johnson's Willow. [^) 

This remarkable tree has been long distinguished as a 

(*) [This and the following have been communicated by the 
Rev. Hastings Robinson, Rector of Great Worley, Essex.] 

(+) [Dr. Dodd was executed June 27, 1777; and Dr. Johnson 
left town for Lichfield at the latter end of the following month.] 

(t) [For Dr. Johnson's letter to the Right Honourable Charles 
Jenkinson, afterwards Earl of Liverpool, see Life, vol. iii. p. 
509.] 

(§) [Nos. 649-655, are from the Gentleman's Magazine.] 



BOSWELL. 423 

favourite object of Dr. Johnson, and which he never failed 
to examine, whenever, after his settlement in the metro- 
polis, he revisited his native city. The ^eat size it had 
attained at that period, and its delightful situation between 
the cathedral and the beautiful vale of Stowe, rendered it 
likely to attract notice; and, from the attachment shown to 
it by the Doctor, it has ever since been regarded as little 
inferior in celebrity to Shakspeare's Mulberry, or the 
Boscobel Oak, and specimens of its wood have been 
worked into vases and other ornaments. In 1815, a great 
portion of the tree gave way, and since then several very 
large boughs have fallen. The Doctor once took an ad- 
measurement of the tree with a piece of string, assisted by 
a little boy, to whom he gave half-a-crown for his trouble. 
The dimensions of the willow in 1781, when in its most 
flourishing condition, taken by Dr. Trevor Jones, and com- 
municated in a letter to Dr. Johnson, are as follows: — 
" The trunk rises to the height of twelve feet eight inches, 
and is then divided into fifteen large ascending branches, 
which, in very numerous and crowded subdivisions, spread 
at the top in a circular form, not unlike the appearance of 
a shady oak, inclining a little towards the east. The cir- 
cumference of the trunk at the bottom is sixteen feet, in 
the middle eleven feet, and at the top, immediately below 
the branches, thirteen feet. The entire height of the tree 
is forty-nine feet, overshadowing a plain not far short of 
four thousand feet."(*) 

650. Citations from Garrick. 

Bos well relates (says a correspondent), that Garrick 
being asked by Johnson what people said of his Dictionary, 
told him, that among other animadversions, it was objected 
that he cited the authorities which were beneath the dignity 
of such a work, and mentioned Richardson. " Nay," said 
Johnson, " I have done worse than that: I have cited thee, 
David." This anecdote induced me to turn over the leaves 
of his Dictionary, that I might note the citations from each 
writer. Two only I found from Garrick, viz. 

" Our bard's a.fabulist, and deals in fiction." 

(*) [For a drawing of Johnson's Willow, see Shaw's Stafford- 
shire, and Gentleman's Magazine, vol. Iv.] 



424 JOHNSONIANA. 

" I know you all expect, from seeing me, 
Some formal lecture, spoke with prudisk face." 

The quotations from Richardson are at least eighty in 
number; almost aU from his Clarissa. 

651. Johnsonian Words. 

In Rett's " Elements of General Knowledge," I read 
(says another correspondent) as follows: — " Our literature, 
indeed, dates a new era from the publication of Johnson's 
Works: many of his words are rarely to be met with in 
former writers, and some are purely of his own fabrication. 
Note, — ' Resuscitation, orbity, volant, fatuity, divaricate, 
asinine, narcotic, vulnirary, empii'eumatic, obtund, disrup- 
tion, sensory, cremation, horticulture, germination, decus- 
sation, eximious,' &c. If these words be not peculiarly 
Johnson's, I know not where they are to be found!" Now, 
upon turningover Johnson's Dictionary, I find all the above 
words occur in Pope, Bacon, Wilkins, Milton, Arbuthnot, 
Grew, Quincy, Wiseman, Harvey, Woodward, Newton, 
Glanville, and Ray: except horticulture, which may be found 
in Tusser's Husbandry; eximious, in Lodge's Letter's; and 
cremation, for which, at present, I have no authority. So 
much for the research of Mr. Kett! 

652. "Prayers mid Meditations." 

The brightest feature in Johnson's character was the 
perfect consciousness of his failings. This the Doctor 
seems to have had in the nicest degree; it always accom- 
panied him, and, joined to his irresolution, embittered 
many of his days and nights. If the publication of his 
Prayers and Meditations still wants to be justified, let it 
be on this score, that they prove Johnson to have been a 
man whose inward struggles were always directed to over- 
come habits of which he was painfully conscious; that he 
did not seek to excuse those failings by the delusions of 
scepticism or sophistry, but that he prayed, resolved, and 
earnestly contended against them. What more have the 
greatest and best men in all ages done, though, perhaps, 
with better success?(*) 

(*) This and the following prayer are not in Mr. Strahan's 
collection: — 



STRAHAN. 425 



653. '■'Ocean:' 

A gentleman once told Dr. Johnson, that a friend of his, 
looking into the Dictionary which the Doctor had lately- 
published, could not find the word ocean. " Not find 
ocean!" exclaimed our Lexicographer; " Sir, I doubt the 
veracity of your information!" He instantly stalked into 
his library; and, opening the work in question with the 
utmost impatience, at last triumphantly put his finger upon 
the subject of research, adding, "There, sir; there is ocean!'''' 
The gentleman was preparing to apologise for the mis 
take, but Dr. Johnson good-naturedly dismissed the sub- 
ject, with " Never mind it, sir; perhaps your friend spells 
ocean with an s." 

" Easter-day, 15th April, 1759. 

" Ah-nighty and most merciful Father, look down with pity upon 
my sins. I am a sinner, good Lord; but let not ray sins burthen 
me for ever. Give me ihy grace to break the chain of evil custom. 
Enable me to shake off idleness and sloth: to will and to do what 
thou hast commanded, grant me chaste in thoughts, words, and 
actions; to love and frequent thy worship, to study and understand 
ihy word; to be diligent in my calling, that I may support myself 
and relieve others. 

" Forgive me, O Lord, wiiatever my mother has suffered by my 
fault, whatever 1 have done amiss, and whatever duty 1 have ne- 
glected. Let me not sink into useless dejection; but so sanctify 
my affliction, O Lord, that I may be converted, and healed; and 
that, by the help of thy Holy Spirit, I may obtain everlasting life 
through Jesus Christ our Lord. 

"And, O Lord, so far as it may be lawful, I commend unto thy 
fatherly goodness my father, brother, wife, and mother, beseeching 
thee to make them happy for Jesus Christ's sake. Amen." 

"scruples. 

" O Lord, who wouldst that all men should be saved, and who 
knowest that without thy grace we can do nothing acceptable to 
thee, have mercy upon me. Enable me to break the chains of my 
sins, to reject sensuality in thought, and to overcome and suppress 
vain scruples; and to use such diligence in lawful employment as 
may enable me to support myself and do good toothers. "O Lord, 
forgive me the time lust in idleness; pardon the sins which I have 
committed, and grant that 1 may redeem the time misspent, and 
be reconciled to thee by true repentance, that I may live and die 
in peace, and be received to everlasting happiness. Take not 
from me, O Lord, thy Holy Spirit, but let me have support and 
comfort for Jesus Christ's sake. Amen." 

" Tran.sc, June 26, 1768. Of this prayer there is no date, nor 
can I conjecture when it was composed." 



426 JOHNSONIANA. 

654. Johnson's "-Limx labor.^'' (*) 

The general opinion entertained by Dr. Johnson's friends 
was, that he wrote as correctly and elegantly in haste, and 
under various obstructions of person and situation, as other 
men can, who have health and ease and leisure for the 
limse labor. Mr. Boswell says, with great truth, that 
" posterity will be astonished when they are told, upon the 
authority of Johnson himself, that many of these discourses, 
which we should suppose had been laboured with all the 
slow attention of literary leisure, were written in haste as 
the moment pressed, without even being read over by him 
before they were printed," And Sir John Hawkins in- 
forms us, that these essays hardly ever underwent a revision 
before they were sent to the press; and adds, " the original 
manuscripts of the ' Rambler' have passed through my 
hands, and by the perusal of them I am warranted to say, 
as was said of Shakspeare by the players of his time, that 
he never blotted a line, and I believe without the risk of 
that retort which Ben Johnson made to them, ' Would he 
had blotted out a thousand!' " 

Such are the opinions of those friends of Dr. Johnson 
who had long lived in his society, had studied his writings, 
and were eager to give to the public every information by 
which its curiosity to know the history of so eminent a 
character might be gratified. But by wliat fatality it has 
happened, that they were ignorant of the vast labour Dr. 
Johnson employed in correcting this work after it came 
from the first press, it is not easy to determine. This cir- 
cumstance indeed might not fall within the scope of Mr. 
Murphy's elegant essay; but had it been known to Sir 
John Hawkins or to Mr. Boswell, they would undoubt- 
edly have been eager to bring it forward as a prominent part 
of Dr. Johnson's literary history. Mr. Boswell has given 
us some various readings of the "Lives of the Poets;" and 
the reader will probably agree with him, that although the 
author's " amendments in that work are for the better, 
there is nothing of the pannus assutus: the texture is uni- 
form, and indeed what had been there at first is very seldom 

(*) [From Alexander Chalmers's Historical and Biographical 
Preface to The Rambler: British Essayists, vol. xvii.] 



CHALMERS. 427 

unfit to have remained." (*) At the conckision of these 
various readings he offers an apology, of which I may be 
permitted to avail myself: " Should it be objected, that 
many of my various readings are inconsiderable, those w^ho 
make the objection will be pleased to consider that such 
small particulars are intended for those who are nicely 
critical in composition, to whom they will be an acceptable 
collection." 

Is it not surprising, that this friend and companion of 
our illustrious author, who has obliged the public with the 
most perfect delineation ever exhibited of any human being, 
and who declared so often that he was determined 

" To lose no drop of that immortal man ;" 

that one so inquisitive after the most trifling circumstance 
connected with Dr. Johnson's character or history, should 
have never heard or discovered that Dr. Johnson almost 
re-wrote the " Rambler" after the first folio edition? Yet 
the fact was, that he employed the limx laborem not only 
on the second, but on the third edition, to an extent, I pre- 
sume, never known in the annals of literature, and may be 
said to have carried Horace's rule far beyond either its 
letter or spirit: 

"Vos O 

carmen reprehendite, quod non 

Multa dies et multa litura coercuit, aique 
Perfectum decies non casligavil ad unguem." 

" Never the verse approve and hold as good, 
Till many a day and many a blot has wrought 
The polish'd work, and chasten'd ev'ry thought, 
By tenfold labour to perfection brought." 

The alterations made by Dr. Johnson in the second and 
third editions of the "Rambler" far exceed six thousand; 
a number which may perhaps justify the use of the word 
re-ivrote, although it must not be taken in its literal accep- 

(*) These were the alterations made by the author in the man- 
uscript, or in the proof before publication for the second edition. 
Mr. Boswell does not seem so have known that Dr. Johnson made 
so many alterations for the third edition, at to induce Mr. Nichols 
tocollect themin an octavo pamphlet of three sheets closely printed, 
which was given to the purchasers of the second octavo edition, 
— Chalmers. 



428 * JOHNSONIANA. 

tation. If it be asked, of what nature are these alterations, 
or why that was altered which the world thought perfect, 
the author may be allowed to answer for himself. Not- 
withstanding its fame while printing in single numbers, 
the encomiums of the learned, and the applause of friends, 
he knew its imperfections, and determined to remove them. 
He foresaw that upon this foundation his future fame would 
rest, and he determined that the superstructure thrown up 
in haste should be strengthened and perfected at leisure. A 
few passages from No. 169, will explain his sentiments on 
this subject: — 

" Men have sometimes appeared, of such transcendent abilities, 
that their slightest and most cursory performances excel all that 
labour and study can enable meaner intellects to compose; as 
there are regions of which the spontaneous products cannot be 
equalled in other soils by care and culture. Bui it is no less dan- 
gerous for any man to place himself in this rank of understanding, 
and fancy that he is born to be illustrious without labour, than to 
omit the cares of husbandry, and expect from his ground the blos- 
soms of Arabia." — "Among the writers of antiquity I remember 
none except Statins, who ventures to mention the speedy produc- 
tion of his writings, either as an extenuation of his faults, or as a 
proof of his facility. Nor did Statins, when he considered him- 
self as a candidate for lasting reputation, think a closer attention 
unnecessary; but amidst all his pride and indigence, the two great 
hasteners of modern poems, employed twelve years upon the The- 
baid, and thinks his claim to renown proportionate to his labour." 
— " To him whose eagerness of praise hurries his productions soon 
into the light, many imperfections are unavoidable, even where 
the mind furnishes the materials, as well as regulates their dispo- 
sition, and nothing depends upon search or informaiion. Delay 
opens new veins of thought, the subject dismissed for a time ap- 
pears with a new train of dependent images, the accidents of read- 
ing or conversation supply new ornaments or allusions, or mere 
intermission of the fatigue of thinking enables the mind to col- 
lect new force and make new excursions." 

With such sentiments it must appear at least probable, 
that our author would, in his own case, endeavour to repair 
the mischiefs of haste or negligence; but as these were 
not very obvious to his friends, they made no inquiry after 
them, nor entertained any suspicion of the labour he en- 
dured to render his writings more worthy of their praise; 
and when his contemporaries had departed, he might not 
think it necessary to tell a new generation that he had not 
reached perfection at once. — On one occasion Mr. Bos- 
well came so near the question, that if Dr. Johnson had 



CROEER. 429 

thought it worth entenng upon, he had a very fair oppor- 
tunity. Being asked by a lady, whether he thougrht he 
could make his Rambler better, he answered that he cer- 
tainly could. BoswELL. " I'll lay you a bet, sir, you 
cannot." Johnson. " But I will, sir, if I choose. I 
shall make the best of them you shall pick out, better." 
BoswELL. " But you may add to them; I will not allow 
of that." Johnson. " Nay, sir, there are three ways of 
making them better, — putting out, adding, or correct- 
ing:\*) 

655. Donne v. Pope, (t) 

The late Mr. Crauford, of Hyde Park Corner, being 
engaged to dinner, where Dr. Johnson was to be, resolved 
to pay his court to him; and, having heard that he pre- 
ferred Donne's Satires to Pope's version of them, said, 
" Do you know. Dr. Johnson, that I like Dr. Donne's ori- 
ginal Satires better than Pope's." Johnson said, " Well, 
sir, I can't help that." 

656. Music. — King David. 

Miss Johnson, one of Sir Joshua's nieces (afterwards 
Mrs, Deane), was dining one day at her uncle's with Dr. 
Johnson and a large party: the conversation happening to 
turn on music, Johnson spoke very contemptuously of that 
art, and added, " that no man of talent, or whose mind 
was capable of better things, ever would or could devote 
his time and attention to so idle and frivolous a pursuit." 
The young lady, who was very fond of music, whispered 
her next neighbour, " I wonder what Dr. Johnson thinks 
of King David." Johnson overheard her, and, with great 
good humour and complacency, said, " Madam, I thank 
you; I stand rebuked before you, and promise that, on one 
subject at least, you shall never hear me talk nonsense 
again." 

(*) [In corroboration of his assertions, Mr. Chalmers has tran- 
scr b-'d No. 180 of the original folio Rambler, marking the varia- 
tions by italics ] 

(t) [This and the six following scraps were communicated to 
Mr. Croker.] 



430 JOHNSONIANA. 

657. Pleasure of Hunting. 

The honours of the University of Cambridge were once 
performed to Dr. Johnson, by Dr. Watson, afterwards 
Bishop of Llandaff, and then Professor of Chemistry, 
&c. (*) After having spent the morning in seeing all that 
was worthy of notice, the sage dined at his conductor's 
table, which was surrounded by various persons, all anx- 
ious to see so remarkable a character, but the moment was 
not favourable; he had been wearied by his previous exer- 
tions, and would not talk. After the party had dispersed, 
he said, " I was tired and would not take the trouble, or I 
could have set them right upon several subjects, sir; for 
instance, the gentleman who said he could not imagine 
how any pleasure could be derived from hunting, — the 
reason is, because man feels his own vacuity less in action 
than when at rest." 

658. Johnson in a Stage Coach. 

Mr. Williams, the rector of Wellesbourne, in Warwick- 
shire, mentioned having once, when a young man, per- 
formed a stage-coach journey with Dr. Johnson, who took 
his place in the veliicle, provided with a little book, which 
his companion soon discovered to be Lucian: he occa- 
sionally threw it aside, if struck by any remark made by 
his fellow travellers, and poured forth his knowledge and 
eloquence in a full stream, to the delight and astonishment 
of his auditors. Accidentally, the first subject which at- 
tracted him was the digestive faculties of dogs, from whence 
he branched off as to the powers of digestion in various 
species of animals, discovering such stores of information, 
that this particular point might have been supposed to have 
formed his especial study, and so it was with every other 
subject started. The strength of his memory was not less 
astonishing than his eloquence; he quoted from various 
authors, either in support of his own argument or to con- 
fute those of his companions, as readily, and apparently as 
accurately, as if the works had been in his hands. The 

(*) [Dr. Watson was a fellow of Trinity. See Life, vol. i. p. 
500, an account of this visit to Cambridge, which occurred in Feb. 
1765.— C] 



FISHER. 431 

coach halted, as usual, for dinner, which seemed to be a 
deeply interesting business to Johnson, who vehemently 
attacked a dish of stewed carp, using his fingers only in 
feeding himself. 

659. ^''Pilgrim's Progress." 

Bishop Percy was at one time on a very intimate footing 
with Dr. Johnson, and the Doctor one day took Percy's 
little daughter(*) upon his knee, and asked her what she 
thought of " Pilgrim's Progress!" The child answered, 
that she had not read it. " No!" replied the Doctor, 
" then I would not give one farthing for you;" and he set 
her down and took no further notice of her. 

660. Dinner at University. 

My venerable friend, Dr. Fisher, of the Charter-house, 
now in his eighty-fifth year, informs me (says Mi-. Croker) 
that he was one of the party who dined with Dr. John- 
son at University College, Oxford, in March, 1776. (t) 
There were present, he says. Dr. Wetherell, Johnson, 
Boswell, Coulson, Scott, Gwynn, Dr. Chandler the tra- 
veller, and Fisher, then a young Fellow of the College. 
He recollects one passage of the conversation at dinner: — 
Boswell quoted '■'^ Quern Deus vult perdere prius demen- 
tat" and asked where it was. After a pause Dr. Chandler 
said in Horace, — another pause; then Fisher remarked, 
that he knew no metre in Horace to which the words 
could be reduced; upon which Johnson said dictatorially 
" The young man is right." Dr. Fisher recollects another 
conversation during this visit to Oxford, when there was 
a Mr. Mortimer, a shallow, vulgar man, who had no 
sense of Johnson's superiority, and talked a great deal of 
flippant nonsense. At last he said, that " metaphysics 
were all stuff- — nothing but vague words." " Sir," said 
Johnson, " do you know the meaning of the word meta- 
physics?" " To be sure," said the other. " Then, sir, 
you must know that two and two make four, is a meta- 
physical proposition." — "I deny it," rejoined Mortimer, 
" 'tis an arithmetical one; I deny it utterly." " Why, 

(*) [Afterwards Mrs. Isted, of Ecton, Northamptonshire.— C] 
(t) [See Life, vol. iii. p. 329.] 



432 JOHNSONIANA. 

then, sir," said Johnson, "if you deny that we arrive at 
that conclusion by a metaphysical process, I can only say, 
that plus in una hora units osimis negabit, quam centum 
philosophi in centum anriis probaverint.''^ 

661. Langton on Johnson's Death. 

The following letter was written with an agitated hand, 
from the very chamber of death, by the amiable Bennet 
Langton, and obviously interrupted by his feelings. It is 
not addressed, but Mr. Langton's family believe it was 
intended for Mr. Boswell: 

" My dear Sir, — After many conflicting hopes and fears re- 
specting the event of this heavy return of illness which has as- 
sailed our honoured friend Dr. Johnson, since his arrival from 
Lichfield, about four days ago the appearances grew more and 
more awful, and this afternoon at eight o'clock, when I arrived at 
his house to see how he should be going on, I was acquainted at 
the door, that about three quarters of an hour before, he had 
breathed his last. I am now writing in the room where his vene- 
rable remains exhibit a spectacle, the interesting solemnity of 
which, difficult as it would be in anysort to find terms to express, 
so to you, my dear sir, whose own sensations will paint it so 
strongly, it would be of all men the most superfluous to attempt 
to ." 

662. Johnson at Oxford. — Kettel-HalL 

When Johnson, in the year 1754, made an excursion 
to Oxford for the purpose of consulting the libraries, 
preparatory to the publication of his Dictionary, he took 
up his residence at Kettel-Hall; a building originally in- 
tended for the use of the commoners of Trinity, with which 
college it had a communication. " This was the first time," 
says Mr. Thomas Warton, " of the Doctor's being there 
after quitting the University. I went with him to his old 
college, Pembroke. He was highly pleased to find all the 
college servants which he had left there still remaining, 
particularly a very old butler; and expressed great satis- 
faction at being recognised by them, and conversed with 
them familiarly. He waited on the master. Dr. RatclifFe, 
who received him very coldly. Johnson at least expected 
that the master woidd order a copy of his Dictionary, now 
near publication; but the master did not choose to talk on 
the subject, never asked Johnson to dine, nor even to visit 
him while he staid at college. After we had left the lodgings, 



GREEN. 433 

Johnson said to me, ' There lives a man who lives by the 
revenues of literature, and will not move a finger to support 
it: if I come to live at Oxford, I shall take up my abode at 
Trinity.' " 

663 Preface to Shukspeare.^*) 

It M'ould be difficult to find in the Englisli language, of 
equal variety and length, four such compositions as Burke's 
Speech to the Electors of Bristol, Johnson's Preface to 
Shakspeare, Parr's Dedication to Hurd, and Lowth's 
Letter to Warburton. 

664. ''Panting Timer 

Johnson, perhaps, caught his " Panting Time toiled 
after him in vain," from Young's " And leave pi-aise pant- 
ing in the distant vale." 

665. ''The Happy Valley r 

Looked over Rennell's Memoir of his Map of Hindostan. 
The secluded valley of Cashmere, — forming, between the 
parallels of 34° and 35°, an oval hollow eighty miles by 
fifty; blooming with perennial spring, refreshed with cas- 
cades and streams and lakes, and enriched with mountain- 
ous ridges towering into the regions of eternal snow, — 
was perhaps Johnson's prototype for the Happy Valley of 
Amhara in " Rasselas." 

666. Gray. 

It is curious to hear Gray, in his tenth letter to Horace 
Walpole, say, " The same man's verses" (Johnson's, at 
the opening of Garrick's theatre) "are not bad''' — of one 
who Avas destined afterwards to sit in imperial judgment 
on him and all his tribe. 

667. Johnson's Conversation. 

Had a long and interesting conversation with (Sir James) 
Mackintosh. He spoke highly of Johnson's prompt and 
vigorous powers in conversation, and, on this ground, of 

(*) [This and the seven ToUowing are from " The Diary of a 
Lover of Literature," by T. Green of Ipswich, 4to. 1810; and since 
continued in the Gentleman's Magazine.] 
28 



434 JOHNSONIANA. 

Boswell's Life of him. Burke, he said, agreed with him; 
and affirmed, that this Avork was a greater monument to 
Johnson's fame, than all his writings put together. 

668. '■'■Pleasures of Hope." 

Read Campbell's Pleasures of Hope. The beautiful 
allusion with which this poem opens, is borrowed from 
one in Johnson's collections for the Rambler; which, I be- 
lieve, he never employed, but which was certainly too 
good to be lost. 

669. Dr. Bernard. 

Mr. Monney told me he had often met Johnson, and 
imitated his manner very happily. Johnson came on a 
visit to the president of his college (Jesus) at Oxford, Dr. 
Bernard. Dr. Bernard ventured to put a joke upon John- 
son; but being terrified by a tremendous snarl, " Indeed, 
indeed. Doctor, believe me," said he, "I meant nothing." 
" Sir," said Johnson, " if you mean nothing, say nothing!" 
and was quiet for the rest of the evening. 

670. Johnson''s ^'■Letters." 

Johnson's Letters to Mrs. Thrale raise him, if possible, 
still higher than ever in my esteem and veneration. His 
wonderful insight into the real springs of human actions is 
often apparent where he trifles most; and when he sum- 
mons his powers, he pours new and unexpected light, even 
on the clearest and most obvious topics. His fertility of 
logical invention is probably unrivalled. 

671. Johnson at Chester. 

Johnson visited Chester in 1774, in company with Mr., 
Mrs., and Miss Thrale. " We walked," he says, " round 
the walls, which are complete, and contain one mile, three 
quarters, and one hundred and one yards: within them are 
many gardens: they are very high, and two may walk 
very commodiously side by side. On the inside is a rail: 
there are towers from space to space, not very frequent, and 
I think not all complete." It would seem that, while at 
Chester, a little dispute between Johnson and Mrs. Thrale 
took place; for the lady thus writes to Mr. Duppa: — " Of 



REED. 435 

those ill-fated walls Dr. Johnson might have learned the 
extent from any one. He has since put me fairly out of 
countenance by saying, ' I have known my mistress fifteen 
years, and never saw her fairly out of humour but on 
Chester wall:' it was because he would keep Miss Thrale 
beyond her hour of going to bed to walk on the wall, 
where, for the want of light, I apprehended some accident 
to her — perhaps to him."(*) 

672. ^^ Vesuvius Caesar." 

I have heard (says Mr. W. E. Surtees) my grandmother, 
a daughter, by his first wife, of the Dean of Ossory (who 
married secondly Miss Charlotte Cotterell,) speak of Dr. 
Johnson, as having frequently seen him in her youth. 
On one occasion, probably about 1762-3, he spent a day 
or two in the country Avith her father, and Avent with the 
family to see the house of a rich merchant. The owner — 
all bows and smiles — seemed to exult in the opportunity 
of displaying his costly articles oi virta to his visitor, and, 
in going through their catalogue, observed, " And this. Dr. 
Johnson, is Vesuvius Caesar." My grandmother, then 
but a girl, could not suppress a titter; when the Doctor 
turned round, and thus, alike to the discomfiture of the 
merchant and herself, sternly rebuked her aloud, " What is 
the child laughing at? Ignorance is a subject for pity, not 
for laughter." 

673. Story Telling. {i) 

Dr. Johnson, having had a general invitation from Lord 
Lansdowne to see Bow-wood, his lordship's seat in Wilt- 
shire, he accordingly made him a visit, in company with 
Cumming, the Quaker, a character at that time Avell known 
as the projector of the conquest of Senegal. They arrived 
about dinner-time, and were received with such respect and 
good-breeding, that the Doctor joined in the conversation 
with much pleasantry and good-humour. He told several 
stories of his acquaintance with literary characters, and in 
particular repeated the last part of his celebrated letter to 

(*) [From the Piozzi MSS.] 

(+) [This and the eight following are from the European Maga- 
zine, edited at the time by Isaac Reed, Esq.] 



436 JOHNSONIANA. 

Lord Chesterfield, desiring to be dismissed from all further 
patronage. Whilst " the feast of reason and the flow of 
soul" was thus enjoying, a gentleman of Lord Lansdowne's 
acquaintance from London happened to arrive, but being 
too late for dinner, his lordship was making his apologies, 
and added, " But you have lost a better thing than dinner, 
in not being here time enough to hear Dr. Johnson repeat 
his charming letter to Lord Chesterfield, though I dare say 
the Doctor will be kind enough to give it to us again." 
" Indeed, my lord," says the Doctor (who began to growl 
the moment the subject was mentioned), " I will not: I 
told the story just for my own amusement, but I will not 
be dragged in as story-teller to a company." 

674. Pomponius Gauricus. 

Dr. Johnson had planned a book on the model of 
Robinson Crusoe. Pomponius Gauricus, a learned Nea- 
politan, who had dabbled in alchemy, &c., suddenly dis- 
appeared in the year 1530, and was heard of no more. 
The supposed life of this man the Doctor had resolved to 
write. " I will not," said he, " shipwreck my hero on 
an uninhabited island, but will carry him up to the summit 
of San Pelegrini, the highest of the Apennines; wliere he 
shall be made his own biographer, passing his time among 
the goat-herds," &c. 

675. Character of Boswell. 

Boswell was a man of excellent natural parts, on which 
he had engrafted a great deal of general knowledge. His 
talents as a man of company were much heightened by his 
extreme cheerfulness and good nature. Mr. Burke said of 
him, that he had no merit in possessing that agreeable 
faculty, and that a man might as well assume to himself 
merit in possessing an excellent constitution. Mr. Boswell 
professed the Scotch and the English law; but had never 
taken very great pains on the subject. His father. Lord 
Auchinleck, told him one day, that it would cost him more 
trouble to hide his ignorance in these professions, than to 
show his knowledge. This Mr. Boswell owned he had 
found to be true. Society was his idol; to that he sacri- 
ficed everything: his eye glistened, and his countenance 
brightened up, when he saw the human face divine; and 



REED. 437 

that person must have been very fastidious indeed, who 
did not return him the same compliment when he came 
into a room. Of his Life of Johnson, who can say too 
much, or praise it too highly. What is Plutarch's bio- 
graphy to his? so minute, so appropriate, so dramatic! 
" How happy would the learned world have been," said 
the present acute and elegantly minded Bishop of Here- 
ford, (*) ''had Pericles, Plato, or Socrates possessed such 
a friend and companion as Mr. Boswell was to Dr. John- 
son!" 

676. Johnson^s ,igil{ty. 

A gentleman of Lichfield meeting the Doctor returning 
from a walk, inquired how far he had been? The Doctor 
replied, he had gone round Mr. Levet's field (the place 
where the scholars play) in search of a rail that he used to 
jump over when a boy; " and," says the Doctor in a trans- 
port of joy, "I have been so fortunate as to find it. I 
stood," said he, " gazing upon it for some time with a de- 
gree of rapture, for it brought to my mind all my juvenile 
sports and pastimes, and at length I determined to try my 
skill and dexterity; I laid aside my hat and wig, pvdled off 
my coat, and leapt over it twice." Thus the great Dr. 
Johnson, only three years before his death, was, without 
hat, wig, or coat, jumping over a rail that he had used to 
fly over when a school-boy. 

Amongst those who were so intimate with Dr. Johnson 
as to have him occasionally an intimate in their families, it 
is a well-known fact, that he would frequently descend 
from the contemplation of subjects the most profound ima- 
ginable to the most childish playfulness. It was no uncom- 
mon thing to see him hop, step, and jump; he would often 
seat himself on the back of his chair, and more than once 
has been known to propose a race on some grassplat adapted 
to the purpose. He was very intimate with and much 
attached to Mr. John Payne, once a bookseller in Pater- 
noster Row, and afterwards Chief Accountant of the Bank. 
Mr. Payne was of a very diminutive appearance, and once 
when they were together on a visit with a friend at some 
distance from town, Johnson in a gaiety of humour pro- 

(*) [The Rev. Dr. John Butler.] 



438 JOHNSONIANA. 

posed to run a race with Mr. Payne. The proposal was 
accepted; but, before they had proceeded more than half 
the intended distance, Johnson caught his little adversary 
up in his arms, and without any ceremony placed him 
upon the arm of a tree which was near, and then continued 
running as if he had met with a hard match. He after- 
wards returned with much exultation to release his friend 
from the no very pleasant situation in which he had left 
him. 

677. BosweWs Life of Johnson. 

Cowper, the poet, speaking of Boswell's Life of John- 
son, observed, that though it was so much abused, it pre- 
sented the best portrait that had ever been given of the 
great English moralist; adding, that mankind would be 
gratified indeed, if some contemporary of Shakspeare and 
Milton had given the world such a history of those unri- 
valled poets. 

678. Party Heat. 

Doctor, afterwards Dean Maxwell, sitting in company 
with Johnson, they M'ere talking of the violence of parties, 
and Avhat uuAvarrantable and insolent lengths mobs will 
sometimes run into. " Why, yes, sir," says Johnson, 
" they'll do anything, no matter how odd, or desperate, to 
gain their point; they'll catch hold of the red-hot end of a 
poker, sooner than not get possession of it." 

679. Elhfield. — Francis TFise. — 77*6 Cabin. 

In the course of Johnson's visit to Oxford in 1754, (says 
Mr. Thomas Warton,) we walked three or four times to 
EUsfield, a village beautifully situated about three miles 
from Oxford, to see Mr. Francis Wise, Radcliviau libra- 
rian, with whom Johnson was much pleased. At this 
place Mr. Wise had fitted up a house and gardens, in a 
singular manner, but with great taste. One day Mr. Wise 
read to us a dissertation which he was preparing for the 
press, entitled "A History of the Fabulous Ages." Some 
old divinities of Thrace, related to the Titans and called 
the Cabiri, made a very important part of the theory of 
this piece; and in conversation afterwards, Mr. Wise talked 
much of his Cabiri. As we returned to Oxford in the 



REED. 439 

evening, I ovitwalked Johnson, and he called out Suffla- 
mina — a Latin word which came from his mouth with pe- 
culiar grace, and was as much as to say, Put on your (hag 
chain. Before we got home, I again walked too fast for 
him; and he now cried out, " Why, you walk as if you 
were pursued by all the Cabiri in a body." 

680. Count de Holcke.i^) 

In the year 1768, the King of Denmark visited England, 
and amongst the gentlemen of his suite was Count de 
Holcke, grand master of the wardrobe, a gentleman of 
considerable celebrity for polite learning and classical eru- 
dition. This gentleman had heard much of Dr. Johnson's 
literary fame, and was therefore anxious to see him. 
Through the interest of Dr. Brocklesby, he was enabled 
to pay Johnson a morning visit. They had a long con- 
versation. Next day Count de Holcke dined with Lord 
Temple in Pall Mall, where he met Mr. William Gerard 
Hamilton (commonly called Single-speech Hamilton), who, 
knowing of his visit to Johnson, asked him what he thought 
of the Doctor? Holcke replied, that of all the literary 
impostors and pedants he had ever met with, he thought 
Johnson the greatest — "so shallow a fellow," he said, "he 
had never seen!" 

681. A German Traveller's Description of Johnson in 

1768.(t) 

I am just returned from a visit to Samuel Johnson, the 
colossus of English literature, who combines profound 
knowledge with wit, and humour with serious wisdom, 
and whose exterior announces nothing of these qualities; for 
■ in the proportions of his form are exactly those of the 
sturdy drayman. To this he alludes in his delineation of 
the Idler: " The diligence of an Idler is rapid and impetu- 
ous; as ponderous bodies, forced into velocity, move with 
violence proportionate to their weight." 

His manners are boorish, and his eye cold as his raillery; 
never is it animated Avith a glance that betrays archness or 

(*) [This and the two following are from the Monthly Maga- 
zine ] 
(t) [See No. 20.] 



440 JOHNSONIANA. 

acuteness; he constantly seems to be, and not seldom he 
really is, absent and distracted. He had invited Colman 
and me by letter, and forgot it. We surprised him, in the 
strictest sense of the word, at the country seat of Mr. 
Thrale, whose lady, a genteel agreeable Welshwoman, by 
way of amusement reads and translates Greek authors. 
Here Johnson lives and reigns (for he is fond of acting the 
dominator), as if he were in the midst of his own family. 
He received us in a friendly manner, though a certain air 
of solemness and pomposity never left him, which is inter- 
woven with his manners as well as with his style. In 
conversation he rounds his periods, and speaks with a tone 
almost theatrical; but whatever he says becomes interesting 
by a certain peculiar character with which it is stamped. 
We spoke of the English language; and I remarked, " that 
it passed through its different epochs quicker than other 
languages: there is a greater difference," said I, " between 
your present writers and the celebrated club of authors in 
the reign of Queen Ann, than between the French of the 
present and the last century. They make incursions into 
foreign ground, and lavishly squander the easily acquired 
plunder; for they follow not the counsel of Swift, to adopt, 
indeed, new words, but never after to reject them. " We 
conquer," interrupting me, said one of the guests, "new 
words in a fit of enthusiasm, and give them back again in 
cold blood, as we do our conquests on the making of peace." 
"But are you not," asked I, " thus losers Avith regard to 
posterity? For your writings will be scarcely intelligible 
to the third succeeding generation." " New words," re- 
plied Johnson, " are well-earned riches. When a nation 
enlarges its stock of knowledge and acquires new ideas, it 
must necessarily have a suitable vesture for them. Foreign 
idioms, on the contrary, have been decried as dangerous; 
and the critics daily object to me my Latinisms, which, 
they say, alter the character of our language: but it is seri- 
ously my opinion, that every language must be servilely 
formed after the model of some one of the ancient, if we 
wish to give durability to our works." Do you not think 
that there is some truth in this sophistry? A dead lan- 
guage, no longer subject to change, may well serve as a fit 
standard for a living one. It is an old sterling weight, 
according to which the value of the current coin is esti- 



COUNT DE HOLCKE. 441 

mated." " The greatest confusion in languages," continued 
I, addressing myself to Johnson, " is caused by a kind of 
original geniuses, who invent their own Sanscrit, that they 
may clothe their ideas in holy obscurity; and yet we wil- 
lingly listen to their oracular sayings, and at length are 
ourselves infected with the disease." " Singularity," ex- 
claimed one of the guests, " is often a mark of genius." 
" Then," answered Johnson, " there exist few greater ge- 
niuses than Wilton in Chelsea. (*) His manner of writing 
is the most singular in the world; for, since the last war, 
he writes with his feet." 

Colman spoke of the " Rehearsal," which was formerly 
so much admired as a masterpiece; but which nobody had 
patience now to read through. " There was too little salt 
in it to keep it sweet," said Johnson. Hume was men- 
tioned. " Priestley," said I, " objects to this historian the 
frequent use of Gallicisms." " And I," said Johnson, 
" that his whole history is a Gallicism." Johnson eagerly 
seizes every opportunity of giving vent to his hatred against 
the Scots. Even in his Dictionary we find the following 
article: " Oats, a grain, which in England is generally 
given to horses, but in Scotland supports the people." 

Not recollecting his edition of Shakspeare, which was 
so far from answering the expectations of the critics, I 
unthinkingly and precipitately enough asked him, " which 
edition of that poet he most esteemed?" " Eh!" replied 
he with a smile; " 'tis Avhat we call an unlucky question." 

I inquired after Boswell. Johnson seems to love him 
much; he is sensible of, but forgives him, his enthusiasm. 
Boswell is a fiery young man, who firmly believes in heroic 
virtue; and who, in the intoxication of his heart, Avould 
have flown with equal ardour to Iceland as to Corsica, in 
pursuit of a demigod. 

You are acquainted with Johnson's works. The Ram- 
bler, the Idler; London, a Satire; and the excellent Bio- 
graphy of Savage, are well known in Germany. But we 
hear less in our country of Prince Rasselas, a masterly, 
cold, political romance, as all of the kind are; for a teacher 
of the art of government, who, remote from, and unprac- 
tised in, affairs, writes for kings, can spin out of his brain 

(*) [An old soldier, whose arms had been shot off. J 



442 JOHNSONIANA. 

a texture only of general principles, Irene, a tragedy by 
Johnson, full of the finest speeches, was hissed, and is for- 
gotten. 

This celebrated man had long to contend with poverty; 
for you must not imagine, that England always rewards 
her authors in proportion to the general admiration they 
excite. Often was he obliged to hide himself in a cellar 
near Moorfields, to avoid being lodged in a room with an 
iron grate. In those days of adversity he wrote speeches 
worthy of a Demosthenes, for and against the most impor- 
tant questions agitated in Parliament, which were published 
under the names of the real members. These speeches 
for a long time passed for genuine in the country; and it 
is not generally known, that among them is the celebrated 
speech of Pitt, which he is said to have pronounced, Avhen 
his youth was objected to him, and which never so flowed 
from the mouth of Pitt. Johnson has now conducted the 
Pactolus into his garden. He enjoys a pension of three 
hundred pounds sterling, not to make speeches, but, as the 
Opposition assert, to induce him to remain silent, 

I forgot to tell you, that Johnson denies the antiquity of 
Ossian. Macpherson is a native of Scotland; and Johnson 
would rather sufl'er him to pass for a great poet than allow 
him to be an honest man. I am convinced of their authen- 
ticity. Macpherson showed me, in the presence of Alex- 
ander Dow, at least twelve parcels of the manuscript of the 
Erse original. Some of these manuscripts seemed to be 
very old. Literati of my acquaintance, who understand 
the language, have compared them with the translation; and 
we must either believe the absurdity, that Macpherson had 
likewise fabricated the Erse text, or no longer contend 
against evidence. Macpherson declaimed a few passages 
to me. The language sounded melodius enough, but 
solemnly plaintive and guttural, like the languages of all 
rude, uncultivated nations. 

682. Johnson in the Salisbury Stage. 

In the year 1783 (says a correspondent), I went in the 
stage-coach from London to Salisbury. Upon entering 
it, I perceived three gentlemen, one of whom strongly at- 
tracted my notice. He was a corpulent man, with a book 
in his hand, placed very near to his eyes. He had a large 



JOHNSONIANA. 443 

wig, which did not appear to have been combed for an 
age: his clothes were threadbare. On seating myself in 
the coach, he lifted up his eyes, and directed them towards 
me; but in an instant they resumed their former employ- 
ment. I was immediately struck with his resemblance 
to the print of Dr, Johnson, given as a frontispiece to the 
" Lives of the Poets;" but how to gratify my curiosity I 
was at a loss. I thought, from all I had heard of Dr. 
Johnson, that I should discover him if, by any means, I 
could engage him in conversation. The gentleman by the 
side of him remarked, " I wonder, sir, that you can read 
in a coach which ti-avels so swiftly: it would make my 
head ache." " Ay, sir," replied he, " books make some 
people's heads ache." This appeared to me Johnsonian. 
I knew several persons with whom Dr. Johnson was well 
acquainted: this was another mode of trying how far my 
conjectiu'e was right. " Do you know Miss Hannah 
More, sir?" " Well, sir; the best of all the female versi- 
fiers." This phraseology confirmed my former opinion. 
We now reached Hounslow, and were served with our 
breakfast. Having found that none of my travelling com- 
panions knew this gentleman, I plainly put the question, 
" May I take the liberty, sir, to inquire whether you be 
not Dr. Johnson?" "The same, sir." "lam happy," 
replied I, "to congratulate the learned world that Dr. 
Johnson, whom the papers lately announced to be danger- 
ously indisposed, is re-established in his health." " The 
civilest young man I ever met with in my life," was his 
answer. From that moment he became very gracious 
towards me. I was then preparing to go abroad; and 
imagined that I could derive some useful information from 
a character so eminent for learning. " What book of tra- 
vels, sir, would you advise me to read, previously to my 
setting ofi" upon a tour to France and Italy?" " Why, sir, 
as to France, I know no book worth a groat: and as to 
Italy, Baretti paints the fair side, and Sharp the foul; the 
truth, perhaps, lies between the two." Eveiy step which 
brought us nearer to Salisbury increased my pain at the 
thought of leaving so interesting a fellow-traveller. I ob- 
served that, at dinner, he contented himself with water, as 
his beverage. I asked him, " Whether he had ever tasted 
bumbo?'''' a West Indian potation, which is neither more 



444 JOHNSONIANA. 

nor less than very strong punch. " No, sir," said he. I 
made some. He tasted; and declared, that if ever he drank 
anything else than water, it should be bumbo. When the 
sad moment of separation, at Salisbury, arrived, " Sir," 
said he, " let me see you in London, upon your return to 
your native country. I am sorry that we must part. I 
have always looked upon it as the worst condition of man's 
destiny, that persons are so often torn asunder, just as 
they become happy in each other's society." 

683. Knox on the Character of Johnson.{*) 

The illustrious character of Pierre de Corneille induced 
those who approached him to expect something in his 
manners, address, and conversation, above, the common 
level. They were disappointed; and, in a thousand similar 
instances, a similar disappointment has taken place. The 
friends of Corneille, as was natural enough, were uneasy 
at finding people express their disappointment after an in- 
terview with him. They wished him to appear as respect- 
able Avhen near as when at a distance; in a personal inti- 
macy, as in the regions of fame. They took the liberty 
of mentioning to him his defects, his awkward address, 
his ungentlemanlike behaviour. Corneille heard the enu- 
meration of his faults with gi'eat patience; and, when it was 
concluded, said with a smile, and with a just confidence in 
himself, " All this may be very true, but, notwithstanding 
all this, I am still Pierre de Corneille." 

The numberless defects, infirmities, and faults which 
the friends of Dr. Johnson have brought to public light, 
were chiefly what, in less conspicuous men, would be 
passed over as foibles, or excused as mere peccadilloes; 
and, however his enemies may triumph in the exposure, I 
think he might, if he were alive, imitate Corneille, and 
say, " Notwithstanding all this, I am still Samuel John- 
son." 

Few men could stand so fierce a trial as he has done. 
His gold has been put into the furnace, and, considering 
the violence of the fire and the frequent repetition of the 
process, the quantity of dross and alloy is inconsiderable. 



(♦) [This and the following are from " Winter Evenings; or 
Lucubrations," by Dr. Vicesimus Knox.] 



KNOX. 445 

Let him be considered not absolutely, but comparatively; 
and let those who are disgusted with him, ask themselves, 
whether their own characters, or those they most admire, 
would not exhibit some deformity, if they were to be ana- 
lysed with a minute and anxious curiosity. The private 
conversation of Johnson, the caprice of momentary ill- 
humour, the weakness of disease, the common infirmities 
of human nature, have been presented to the public with- 
out those alleviating circumstances which probably attended 
them. And where is the man that has not foibles, weak- 
nesses, follies, and defects, of some kind? And where is 
the man that has greater virtues, greater abilities, more 
useful labours, to put into the opposite scale against his 
defects, than Johnson? Time, however, will place him, 
notwithstanding all his errors and infirmities, high in the 
ranks of fame. Posterity will forgive his roughness of 
manner, his apparent superstition, and his prejudices; and 
will remember his Dictionary, his moral writings, his bio- 
graphy, his manly vigour of thought, his piety, and his 
charity. They will make allowances for morbid melan- 
choly; for a life, a great part of which was spent in ex- 
treme indigence and labour, and the rest, by a sudden 
transition, in the midst of aflluence, flattery, obsequious- 
ness, submission, and universal renown. 

684, Johnson'' s '■'■Prayers and Meditations." 

Every one had heajd that Dr. Johnson was devout; few 
entertained an adequate idea of his warmth and scrupulous 
regvdarity in the offices of devotion, till the publication of 
his Prayers and Meditations. They exhibit him in a light 
in which he has seldom appeared to his readers. He 
usually puts on a garb of dignity and command. His 
Rambler is written in the style of authority. His Prefaces 
to the Poets are dictatorial. The reader is easily induced 
to believe that pride is a striking feature in his character. 
But he no sooner opens the book of Prayers and Medita- 
tions, than he sees him in a state of true humility: no af- 
fectation in the style: no words of unusual occurrence: 
every expression is such as is well adapted to a frail mortal, 
however improved by art or favoured by nature, when he 
approaches the mercy-seat of the Almighty. The reader 
is thus, in some degree, gratified by observing a man, who 



446 JOHNSONIANA. 

had always appeared to him as a superior mortal, and ex- 
empt from human infirmities, feeling and acknowledging 
with all humility the common weaknesses of all human 
creatures. 

685. Fordyce on the Death and Character of Dr. 
Johnson. {*) 

It hath pleased thee, Almighty Disposer, to number 
with the silent dead a man of renown, a master in Israel, 
who had " the tongue of the learned," and worshipped 
thee with fervour " in the land of the living." His was 
" the pen of a ready writer." His was the happy power 
of communicating truth with clearness, and inculcating vir- 
tue with energy; of clothing the gravest counsels in the 
attractive garb of entertainment, and adding dignity to the 
most obvious maxims of prudence. To him it was given 
to expose with just discrimination the follies of a frivolous 
age, and with honest zeal to reprobate its vices. 

This shining light raised up by thee, " the Father of 
lights," for the honour of thy name, and the benefit of 
many, thou hast lately seen fit to remove. But blessed 
be thy Providence for continuing him so long. Blessed 
be thy Spirit that enriched him with those eminent gifts, 
and enabled him to render them useful. In his presence 
the infidel was awed, the profane stood corrected, and the 
mouth of the swearer was stopped. In his discourse the 
majesty of genius impressed the atteirtive and unprejudiced 
with a reverence for wisdom; the virtuous and the pious 
were encouraged by the approbation of superior discern- 
ment; and truths, that had lost the allurement of novelty, 
recovered their influence, from the native but peculiar force 
with which they were proposed. 

But " what is man," O Lord? or who among the sons of 
men can plead innocence before the Thrice Holy? When 
trouble and anguish came upon thy aged servant, when 
" his sleep went from him," when in solemn recollection 
he " communed with his own heart upon his bed," and 
examined himself in the view of his last and great account, 
he saw wherein he had offended. Then it was that I 

(*) [From " Addresses to the Deity," by James Fordyce, D.D. 
12mo. 1785.] 



FORDYCE. 447 

heard him condemn, with holy self-abasement, the pride of 
understanding by which he had often trespassed against 
the laws of courteovis demeanour, and forgotten the fallible 
condition of his nature. Then it was that I heard him, 
with ingenuous freedom, commend the virtues of forbear- 
ance and moderation in matters of belief, as more conform- 
able to reason, and to the Gospel of thy Son, than he had 
long conceived. Hoav deep was the contrition which then 
penetrated his soul, in the remembrance of his sins, and 
caused him to feel more strongly, what indeed he had 
ever acknowledged, that no extent of intellect, and no 
eminence of fame, can arm an awakened and reflecting 
mind against the fear of thy displeasure! Let it be known 
that this man, after considering the uncertainty of life, after 
studying the sanctity of thy law, after discovering more 
clearly the utter insufficiency of human attainments, and 
contemplating with ardent solicitude the stupendous and 
unspeakable importance of salvation, did with all the hu- 
mility of faith cast himself on thine infinite mercy through 
Jesus Christ. But for the confirmation of the true believer, 
and to overthrow the delusive pretences and vain expecta- 
tions of hypocrisy, let it be known also, that while he 
rested only on this foundation, he was unalterably assured 
it would support none but the penitent and upright, the de- 
vout and benevolent. 

Whatever esteem or gratitude he deserved from his 
countrymen, for his diligence and skill in furthering the 
knowledge of their native tongue, in which they may study 
the Revelation of thy Will, and find withal so many trea- 
sures of useful truth and solid learning; little, alas! would 
that, or his other labours and abilities, have availed him 
in the dread concluding hour, if in his lifetime he had 
abused them to thy dishonour, or neglected to secure thine 
acceptance by what is better than all knowledge, sagacity, 
or eloquence; by veneration for thee and charity to man- 
kind. 

Father of spirits! if men without principle or feeling 
shoidd exult, and say that his anxiety in the prospect of 
his latter end arose from the weakness and depression of 
disease; I record it to the honour of thy service, that never 
were his faculties more vigorous or animated, never were 
his views more raised, or his words more emphatical, than 



448 JOHNSONIANA. 

in those moments when the consideration of thine imma- 
culate purity, and of the all-deciding trial, had full posses- 
sion of his soul. Nor didst thou leave him to hopeless 
despondence. He knew in whom he trusted; and thou 
gavest him to enjoy the recollection of having long cherished 
an habitual reverence for thy Divine Majesty, and im- 
proved the talents he received at thy hand for the interests 
of truth, and the enforcement of duty, " in the midst of an 
evil and crooked generation." To thy goodness, O God, 
did he thankfully ascribe it, that he had never sought the 
praise of the rich by flattery, or of the licentious by imi- 
tating their manners, and prostituting his faculties to em- 
bolden vice or varnish profaneness. 

But if this man boasted not that he was righteous, if he 
relied not on any virtue which he had practised, if he 
earnestly supplicated forgiveness through the merits of his 
Saviour alone, and left behind him in his latest deed an 
open testimony of his repentance and his faith; where shall 
the ungodly and the presumptuous appear? Will they 
lift up their heads with joy in the day of judgment? will 
they challenge a reward at thy just tribunal? Merciful 
Creator! deliver them from their pride and impenitence. 
Show them the greatness of their error, and lead them from 
themselves to the Redeemer of the world for the remission 
of their sins. 

Let not such as were strangers to the piety and benevo- 
lence of thy departed servant, censure too severely the 
partial or prejudiced opinions that sometimes contracted and 
unhappily obscured a mind otherwise comprehensive and 
enlightened. Teach them, O Lord, more charitable allow- 
ance for mistakes hastily imbibed in the days of youth, and 
afterwards from the power of early prepossession, without 
consciousness of evil, fondly retained and vehemently de- 
fended. It may be that in him they were permitted, by 
thy unerring providence, to manifest more clearly the frailty 
of the wisest men, and to raise our minds from the defective 
patterns of excellence here below, to thyself, the only stand- 
ard of perfection. 

Whatever gifts adorned him were alone to be regarded 
as emanations from thee, " from whom cometh down every 
good gift," every rational endowment, and exalted con- 
ception. But, O thou great sun of souls! can I believe 



FORDYCE. 449 

that those emanations are extinguished in the dust? Can 
I believe, that he whose writings I have perused with de- 
light and improvement, is himself perished in the gulph 
of annihilation? Abhorred be the impious and unnatural 
thought! When his mortal part, worn with watching and 
study, broken by suffering and age, yielded at last to the 
stroke that conquers the young, the prosperous, and the 
strong; with what ecstasy would his never-dying spirit fly 
away, and kindle and flame as it approached nearer to 
thee, the fountain of light and intellectual being! With 
what friendly transports would the illuminated and holy in- 
habitants of heaven receive to their sublime society, a mind 
like his, purified from every blemish, and beaming with 
the radiance of wisdom! I weep for joy to think, that 
good men have from the beginning survived the ruins of 
corporeal nature; that they will continue to exist when 
ages are lost in eternity; that they will live for ever blessed 
in thy presence, for ever dignified with thy friendship, O 
thou King Eternal! 

Wrapt by the exalting contemplation, I rejoice more 
particularly in the permanent effulgence of those splendid 
luminaries that have shown in long succession upon earth, 
darting the rays of knowledge and of virtue through differ- 
ent periods. I rejoice at the recollection, that those rays 
have not been quenched in the shades of death; and that by 
thy good providence we enjoy at this day the accumulated 
instruction of generations. Look with pity on the ignorant 
and the slothful; who, having such "a price put into their 
hands, have not a heart to make use of it," Rouse them, 
I beseech thee, to a sense of their folly, and give them 
grace to redeem their past neglect, by their future diligence. 

I praise thee, the God of thy late servant, that " being 
dead he yet speaketh," in those lasting productions which 
abound with the purest morality: where the conclusions of 
experience are added to the researches of learning, and to 
the fruits of meditation; where the secret recesses of the 
heart are explored, imagination is rendered ministerial to 
reason, and the reluctant passions compelled to acknow- 
ledge the claims of religion; where the conscious reader 
is turned inward upon himself, and blushes at the sight of 
his imbecility and guilt laid open before him with resist- 
less evidence. Grant, O Lord, that we may profit by 
29 



450 JOHNSONIANA. 

those severe but salutary instructions, and in the spirit of 
meekness learn from so able a teacher " the things that 
belong to our peace." Let not the graver dictates of his 
pen be lost in levity or forgelfulness. Nor yet let us rest 
with the transitory and ineffectual admiration of truth, 
when we behold it embellished by his vivid wit and glow- 
ing fancy; but may we follow its guidance with faithfulness 
and pleasure! 

686. Cowper on Johnson's Life of Dr. fVatts.i^*) 

I have no objection in the world to your conveying a 
copy of my poems to Dr. Johnson; though I well know 
that one of his pointed sarcasms, if he should happen to be 
displeased, would soon find its way into all companies, and 
spoil the sale. He writes, indeed, like a man that thinks 
a great deal, and that sometimes thinks religiously: but re- 
port informs me, that he has been severe enough in his 
animadversions upon Dr. Watts; who was, nevertheless, if 
I am in any degree a judge of verse, a man of truly poetical 
ability; careless, indeed, for the most part, and inattentive 
too to those niceties which constitute elegance of expres- 
sion, but frequently sublime in his conceptions, and mas- 
terly in his execution. Pope, I have heard, had placed 
him once in the " Dunciad;" but, on being advised to read 
before he judged him, was convinced that he deserved 
other treatment, and thrust somebody's blockhead into the 
gap, whose name, consisting of a monosyllable, happened 
to fit it. Whatever faults, however, I may be chargeable 
with as a poet, I cannot accuse myself of negligence; I 
never suffer a line to pass till I have made it as good as I 
can; and though my doctrines may offend this king of 
critics, he will not, I flatter myself, be disgusted by slo- 
venly inaccuracy, either in the numbers, rhymes, or lan- 
guage. Let the rest take its chance. It is possible he 
may be pleased; and if he should, I shall have engaged on 
ray side one of the best trumpeters in the kingdom. Let 
him only speak as favourably of me as he has spoken of 
Sir Richard Blackmore, (who, though he shines in his 
poem called " Creation," has written more absurdities in 

(*)[This and the three following are from Cowper's "Private 
Correspondence," 2 vols. 8vo. 1824.] 



COWPER. 451 

verse than any writer of our country,) and my success will 
be secured. [Letter to Neivton, Sept. 18, 1781.) 

I am glad to be undeceived respecting the opinion I had 
been erroneously led into on the subject of Johnson's cri- 
ticism on Watts. Nothing can be more judicious, or more 
characteristic of a distinguishing taste, than his observations 
upon that writer; though I think him a little mistaken in 
his notion, that divine subjects have never been poetically 
treated with success. A little more Christian knowledge 
and experience would perhaps enable him to discover ex- 
cellent poetry, upon spiritual themes, in the aforesaid little 
Doctor. I perfectly acquiesce in the propriety of sending 
Johnson a copy of ray productions; and I think it would 
be well to send it in our joint names, accompanied with a 
handsome card, and such an one as may predispose him to 
a favourable perusal of the book, by coaxing him into a 
good temper; for he is a great bear, with all his learning 
and penetration. [Letter to Neivton, Oct. 4, 1781.) 

687. Cowper^s Epitaph on Dr. Johnson. 

Here Johnson lies — a sage, by all allow'd, 

Whom to have bred may well make England proud; 

Whose prose was eloquence by wisdom taught, 

The graceful vehicle of virtue's thought; 

Whose verse may claim, grave, masculine, and strong, 

Superior praise to the mere poet's song; 

Who many a noble gift from Heaven possess'd, 

And faith at last — alone worth all the rest. 

Oh! man immortal by a double prize. 

On earth by fame, by favour in the skies ! 

088. Johnson at lona. 

" At last," says Johnson, " we reached the island; the 
venerable seat of ancient sanctity; where secret piety re- 
posed, and where fallen greatness was reposited. We 
walked uncovered into the chapel, and saw in the reverend 
ruin the effects of precipitate reformation. The floor is 
covered with ancient grave stones, of which the inscriptions 
are not now legible; and without, some of the chief fami- 
lies still continue the right of sepulture. The altar is not 
yet quite demolished; beside it, on the right side, is a bas- 
relief of the Virgin with her child, and an angel hovering 
over her. On the other side still stands a hand-bell, which, 



452 JOHNSONIANA. 

though it has no clapper, neither Presbyterian bigotry nor 
barbarian wantonness has yet taken away. Near the 
chapel is a fountain, to which the water, remarkably pure, 
is conveyed from a distant hill, through pipes laid by the 
Romish clergy, which still perform the office of convey- 
ance, though they have never been repaired since popery 
was suppressed. Boswell, who is very pious, went into 
the chapel at night to perform his devotions, but came back 
in haste for fear of spectres. "(*) 

689. Dr. King on Johnson's English.{i) 

It is a great defect in the education of our youth in both 
the IJniversities that they do not sufficiently apply them- 
selves to the study of their mother tongue. By this means 
it happens, that some very learned men and polite scholars 
are not able to express themselves with propriety in com- 
mon conversation, and that when they are discoursing on 
a subject which they understand perfectly well. 1 have 
been acquainted with three persons only who spoke Eng- 
lish with that eloquence and propriety, that if all they said 
had been immediately committed to writing, any judge of 
the English language would have pronounced it an excel- 
lent and very beautiful style — Atterbury, the exiled bishop 
of Rochester; Dr. Gower, provost of Worcester College; 
and Samuel Johnson. 

690. Gray on ^^London.^' 

" London" is one of those few imitations that have all 
the ease and all the spirit of the original. The same man's 
verses at the opening of Garrick's Theatre are far from 
bad. (Letter to Walpole.) 

691. Richardson and Fielding. 

Gray was much pleased with an answer which Dr. 
Johnson once gave to a person on the different and com- 
parative merits of Fielding and Richardson. " Why, sir. 
Fielding could tell you what o'clock it was; but, as for 



(*) [Letter to Mrs. Thrale, October 23, 1773.] 
(t) [From Dr. William King's "Anecdotes of his Own Times," 
8vo. 1819.] 



DUGALD STEWART. 453 

Richardson, he could make a clock or a watch." {Mat- 
thiases Gray.) 

692. Johnson on Newton. 

One of the most sagacious men in this age, who con- 
tinues, I hope, to improve and adorn it, Samuel Johnson, 
remarked in my hearing, that if Newton had flourished in 
ancient Greece, he would have been worshipped as a divi- 
nity. How zealously then would he be adored, if his 
incomparable writings could be read and comprehended by 
the Pundits of Cashmere or Benares! {Sir William 
Jones, 1785.) 

693. Dugald Stewart on the ^^ Lives of the Poets.^^*) 

It is a melancholy fact with respect to artists of all 
classes; — painters, poets, orators, and eloquent writers; 
— that a large proportion of those who have evinced the 
soundest and the purest taste in their own productions, 
have yet appeared totally destitute of this power, when 
they have assumed the office of critics. How is this to be 
accounted for, but by the influence of bad passions (unsus- 
pected, probably, by themselves) in blinding or jaundicing 
their critical eye? In truth, it is only when the mind is 
perfectly serene, that the decisions of taste can be relied 
on. In these nicest of all operations of the intellectual 
faculties, where the grounds of judgment are often so sha- 
dowy and complicated, the latent sources of error are num- 
berless; and to guard against them, it is necessary that no 
circumstance, however trifling, should occur, either to dis- 
compose the feelings, or to mislead the understanding. 

Among our English poets, who is more vigorous, cor- 
rect, and polished, than Dr. Johnson, in the few poetical 
compositions which he has left? Whatever may be thought 
of his claims to originality of genius, no person who reads 
his verses can deny that he possessed a sound taste in this 
species of composition; and yet, how wayward and per- 
verse, in many instances, are his decisions, when he sits 
in judgment on a political adversary, or when he treads on 
the ashes of a departed rival! To myself, (much as I ad- 
mire his great and various merits, both as a critic and a 

(*) [From the Philosophical Essays.] 



454 JOHNSONIANA. 

writer,) human nature never appears in a more humiliating 
form, than when I read his " Lives of the Poets;" a per- 
formance which exhibits a more faithful, expressive, and 
curious picture of the author, than all the portraits attempted 
by his biographers; and which, in this point of view, com- 
pensates fully by the moral lesson it may suggest, for the 
critical errors which it sanctions. The errors, alas! are 
not such as any one who has perused his imitation of Ju- 
venal can place to the account of a bad taste; but such as 
had their root in weaknesses which a noble mind would 
be still more unwilling to acknowledge. If these observa- 
tions are well founded, they seem to render it somewhat 
doubtful, whether, in the different arts, the most successful 
adventurers are likely to prove, in matters of criticism, the 
safest guides; although Pope appears to have considered 
the censorial authority as their exclusive prerogative: — 

" Let such teach others who themselves excel, 
And censure freely who have written well." 

694. Byron on the " Vanity of Human Wishes.'''' 

Read Johnson's "Vanity of Human Wishes" — all the 
examples and mode of giving them sublime, as well as the 
latter part, with the exception of an occasional couplet. I 
do not so much admire the, opening. I remember an ob- 
servation of Sharp's (the Conversationist, as he was called 
in London, and a very clever man), that the first line of 
this poem was superfluous, and that Pope (the best of 
poets, as / think) would have begun at once, only chang- 
ing the punctuation — 

" Survey mankind from China to Peru." 

The former line, " Let observation," &c. is certainly heavy 
and useless. But 'tis a grand poem — and so true!— 
true as the tenth of Juvenal himself. The lapse of ages 
changes all things — time — language — the earth — the 
bounds of the sea — the stars of the sky, and everything 
" about, around, and underneath" man, except man himself, 
who has always been, and always will be, an unlucky ras- 
cal. The infinite variety of lives conduct but to death, and 
the infinity of wishes lead but to disappointment. {Life 
and Works, vol. v. p. 66.) 



BYRON. SCOTT. 455 

695. Byron on the " Lives of the Poets.'*'' 

Johnson strips many a leaf from every laurel. Still, 
his " Lives of the Poets" is the finest critical work extant, 
and can never be read without instruction and delight. 
The opinion of that truly great man, whom it is the pre- 
sent fashion to decry, will ever be received by me with 
that deference which time will restore to him from all. 
{Ibid. vol. vi. p. 376.) 

696. Sir Walter Scott on Johnson. 

Johnson's laborious and distinguished career terminated 
in 1784, when virtue was deprived of a steady supporter, 
society of a brilliant ornament, and literature of a successful 
cultivator. The latter part of his life was honoured with 
general applause, for none was more fortunate in obtain- 
ing and preserving the friendship of the wise and the 
worthy. Thus loved and venerated, Johnson might have 
been pronounced happy. But Heaven, in whose eyes 
strength is weakness, permitted his faculties to be clouded 
occasionally with that morbid affection of the spirits, which 
disgraced his talents by prejudices, and his manners by 
rudeness. 

When we consider the rank which Dr. Johnson held, 
not only in literature, but in society^ we cannot help figur- 
ing him to ourselves as the benevolent giant of some fairy 
tale, whose kindnesses and courtesies are still mingled 
with a part of the rugged ferocity imputed to the fabulous 
sons of Anak; or rather, perhaps, like a Roman dictator, 
fetched from his farm, whose wisdom and heroism still 
relished of his rustic occupation. And there were times 
when, with all Johnson's Avisdom, and all his wit, this 
rudeness of disposition, and the sacrifices and submissions 
which he so unsparingly exacted, were so great, that even 
his kind and devoted admirer, Mrs. Thrale, seems at length 
to have tliought that the honour of being Johnson's hostess 
was almost counterbalanced by the tax which he exacted 
on her time and patience. 

The cause of those deficiencies in temper and manners, 
was no ignorance of what was fit to be done in society, or 
how far each individual ought to suppress his own wishes 
in favour of those with whom he associates; for, theo- 



456 JOHNSONIANA. 

retically, no man understood the rules of good-breeding 
better than Dr. Johnson, or could act more exactly in 
conformity with them, when tlie high rank of those with 
whom he was in company for the time required that he 
should put the necessary constraint upon himself. But, 
during the greater part of his life, he had been in a great 
measure a stranger to the higher society, in which such 
restraint is necessary; and it may be fairly presumed, that 
the indulgence of a variety of little selfish peculiarities, 
which it is the object of good-breeding to suppress, became 
thus familiar to him. The consciousness of his own mental 
superiority in most companies which he frequented, con- 
tributed to his dogmatism; and when he had attained his 
eminence as a dictator in literature, like other potentates, 
he was not averse to a display of his authority: resembling 
in this particular Swift, and one or two other men of genius, 
who have had the bad taste to imagine that their talents 
elevated them above observance of the common rules of 
society. It must be also remarked, that in Johnson's time, 
the literary society of London was much more confined 
than at present, and that he sat the Jupiter of a little circle, 
sometimes indeed nodding approbation, but always prompt, 
on the slightest contradiction, to launch the thunders of 
rebuke and sarcasm. He was, in a word, despotic, and 
despotism will occasionally lead the best dispositions into 
unbecoming abuse of power. It is not likely that any one 
will again enjoy, or have an opportunity of abusing, the 
singular degree of submission which was rendered to John- 
son by all around him. The unreserved communications 
of friends, rather than the spleen of enemies, have occa- 
sioned his character being exposed in all its shadows, as 
well as its lights. But those, when summed and counted, 
amount only to a few narrow-minded prejudices, concern- 
ing country and party, from which few ardent tempers 
remain entirely free, an over-zeal in politics, which is an 
ordinary attribute of the British character, and some vio- 
lences and solecisms in manners, which left his talents, 
morals, and benevolence, alike unimpeachable. [Miscella- 
neous Prose Works, vol. viii. p. 267.) 

697. Sir James Mackintosh on Johnson. 
Dr. Johnson had a great influence on the taste and opin- 



MACKINTOSH. 457 

ions of his age, not only by the popularity of his writings, 
but by that colloquial dictatorship wliich he exercised for 
thirty years in the literary circles of the capital. He was 
distinguished by vigorous understanding and inflexible in- 
tegrity. His imagination was not more lively than was 
necessary to illustrate his maxims; his attainments in 
science were inconsiderable, and in learning far from the 
first class; they chiefly consisted in that sort of knowledge 
which a powerful mind collects from miscellaneous read- 
ing, and various intercourse with mankind. From the 
refinements of abstruse speculation he was withheld, partly, 
perhaps, by that repugnance to such subtleties which much 
experience often inspires, and partly also by a secret dread 
that they might disturb those prejudices in which his mind 
had found repose from the agitation of doubt. He was a 
most sagacious and severely pure judge of the actions and 
motives of men, and he was tempted by frequent detection 
of imposture to indulge somewhat of that contemptuous 
scepticism, respecting the sincerity of delicate and refined 
sentiments, which affected his whole character as a man 
and writer. 

In early youth he had resisted the most severe tests of 
probity. Neither the extreme poverty, nor the uncertain 
income, to Avhich the virtue of so many men of letters has 
yielded, even in the slightest degree weakened his integ- 
rity, or lowered the dignity of his independence. His 
moral principles (if the language may be allowed) partook 
of the vigour of his understanding. He was conscientious, 
sincere, determined; and his pride was no more than a 
steady consciousness of superiority in the most valuable 
qualities of human nature: his friendships were not only 
firm but generous, and tender beneath a rugged exterior: 
he wounded none of those feelings which the habits of his 
life enabled him to estimate; but he had become too hard- 
ened by serious distress not to contract some disregard for 
those minor delicacies, which become so keenly susceptible 
in a calm and prosperous fortune. 

He was a Tory, not without some propensities towards 
Jacobitism; and high churchman, Avith more attachment 
to ecclesiastical authority, and a splendid worship, than is 
quite consistent with the spirit of Protestantism. On these 
subjects he never permitted himself to doubt, nor tolerated 



458 JOHNSONIANA. 

difference of opinion in others. The vigour of his under- 
standing is no more to be estimated by his opinions on 
subjects where it was bound by his prejudices, than the 
strength of a man's body by the effects of a limb in fetters. 

His conversation, whicli was one of the most powerful 
instruments of his extensive influence, was artificial, dog- 
matical, sententious, and poignant, adapted with the most 
admirable versatility to every subject as it arose, and dis- 
tinguished by an almost unparalleled power of serious 
repartee. He seems to have considered himself as a sort 
of colloquial magistrate, who inflicted severe punishment 
from just policy. His course of life led him to treat those 
sensibilities, which such severity wounds, as fantastic and 
effeminate, and he entered society too late to acquire those 
habits of politeness which are a substitute for natural 
delicacy. 

As a man, then, Johnson had a masculine understanding, 
clouded on important subjects by prejudice; a conscience 
pure beyond the ordinary measure of human virtue; a heart 
full of rugged benevolence, and a disregard only for those 
feelings in controversy or in conversation, of which he had 
not learnt the force, or which he thought himself obliged to 
wound. As a writer, he is memorable as one of those who 
effect a change in the general style of a nation, and have 
vigour enough to leave the stamp of their own peculiarities 
upon their language. 

In the progress of English style, three periods may be 
easily distinguished. The first period extended from Sir 
Thomas More to Lord Clarendon. During great part of 
this period, the style partook of the rudeness and fluctua- 
tion of an unformed language, in which use had not yet 
determined the words that were to be English. Writers 
had not yet discovered the combination of words which 
best suits the original structure and immutable constitution 
of our language: where the terms were English, the arrange- 
ment was Latin — the exclusive language of learning, and 
that in which every truth in science, and every model of 
elegance, was contemplated by youth. For a century and 
a half, ineffectual attempts were made to bend our vulgar 
tongue to the genius of the language supposed to be superior; 
and the whole of this period, though not without a capri- 



MACKINTOSH. 459 

cious mixture of coarse idiom, may be called the Latin, or 
pedantic age, of our style. 

In the second period, which extended from the Restor- 
ation to the middle of the eighteenth century, a series 
of writers appeared, of less genius indeed than their pre- 
decessors, but more successful in their experiments to 
discover the mode of writing most adapted to the genius 
of the language. About the same period that a similar 
change was effected in France by Pascal, they began to 
banish from style learned as well as vulgar phraseology, 
and to confine themselves to the part of the language 
naturally used in general conversation by well-educated 
men. That middle region, which lies between vulgarity 
and pedantry, remains commonly unchanged, while both 
extremes are equally condemned to perpetual revolution. 
Those who select words from that permanent part of a 
language, and who arrange them according to its natural 
order, have discovered the true secret of rendering their 
writings permanent, and of preserving that rank among 
the classical writers of their country, which men of greater 
intellectual power have failed to attain. Of these writers, 
whose language has not yet been slightly superannuated, 
Cowley was probably the earliest, as Dryden and Addison 
were assuredly the greatest. 

The third period may be called the Rhetorical, and is 
distinguished by the prevalence of a school of writers, 
of which Johnson was the founder. The fundamental 
character of the Rhetorical style is, that it employs undis- 
guised art, where classical writers appear only to obey the 
impulse of a cultivated and adorned nature. As declama- 
tion is the fire of eloquence without its substance, so 
rhetoric consists in the forms of eloquence without its 
spirit. In the schools of the rhetorician, every ornament 
of composition is made by a rule; where ornaments are 
natural, the feeling from which they spring, if it be temper- 
ed, performs the office of taste, by regulating their number, 
and adapting them to the occasion; but those who fabricate 
them by rule, without this natural regulator, have no secu- 
rity against unseasonable and undistinguishing profusion. 
These writers have not tlie variety of nature, but the uni- 
formity of a Dutch garden. 

As the English classical writers had been led by the 



460 JOHNSONIANA. 

nature of their subjects as well as the bent of their genius, 
to cultivate a temperate elegance, rather than to emulate 
the energy and grandeur of their less polished predecessors, 
so Johnson and his followers, in their attempt (which was 
partly successful) to impart more vigour and dignity to 
the general style, receded so far from vulgarity as to lose 
all ease and variety, and so exclusively preferred terms of 
Latin origin as to sacrifice all that part of the English 
language on which its peculiar character depends. With 
Latin words they attempted also the renewal of those 
inversions and involutions which the syntax of that lan- 
guage allows, but which, after a vain effort of a century, 
had been banished from ours. All their words were thrown 
into one mould, and their periods came up in the same 
shape. As the mind of Johnson was robust, but neither 
nimble nor graceful, so his style, though sometimes signi- 
ficant, nervous, and even majestic, was void of all grace 
and ease, and being the most unlike of all styles to the 
natural effusion of a cultivated mind, had the least pre- 
tensions to the praise of eloquence. During the period, 
now near a close, in which he was a favourite model, a 
stiff symmetry and tedious monotony succeeded to that 
various music Avith which the taste of Addison diversified 
his periods, and to that natural imagery which the latter's 
beautiful genius seemed with graceful negligence to scatter 
over his composition. They who had not fancy enough 
to be ornamental, sought to distinguish themselves by 
being artificial; and, though there were some illustrious 
exceptions, the general style had all those marks of a cor- 
rupt taste which Johnson himself had so well satirised in 
his commendation of the prose of Dry den, and of which he 
has admirably represented the opposite in his excellent 
criticism on Addison. His earlier writings abound most 
with examples of these faults of style. Many of his Latin 
words in an English shape no imitator has ventured to 
adopt; others have already dropped from the language, and 
will soon be known only in Dictionaries. 

Some heaviness and weariness must be felt by most 
readers at the perusal of essays on life and manners writ- 
ten like the " Rambler;" but it ought never to be forgotten, 
that the two most popular writers of the eighteenth century, 
Addison and Johnson, were such efficacious teachers of 



MACKINTOSH. 461 

virtue, that their writings may be numbered among the 
causes which, in an important degree, have contributed to 
preserve and to improve the morality of the British nation. 
His Dictionary, though distinguished neither by the 
philosopliy nor by the erudition v,hich illustrate the origin 
and history of words, is a noble monument of his powers 
and his literary knowledge, and even of his industry, though 
it betrays frequent symptoms of that constitutional indo- 
lence Avhich must have so often overpowered him in so 
immense a labour. 

Towards the end of his life, when intercourse Avith the 
Avorld had considerably softened his style, he published his 
" Lives of the English Poets," a work of which the subject 
insures popularity, and on Avhich his fame probably now 
depends. He seems to have poured into it the miscella- 
neous information which he had collected, and the literary 
opinions which he had formed, during his long reign over 
the literature of London. The critical part has produced 
the warmest agitations of literary faction. The time may, 
perhaps, now be arrived for an impartial estimate of its 
merits. Whenever understanding alone is sufficient for 
poetical criticism, the decisions of Johnson are generally 
right. But the beauties of poetry must be felt before their 
causes are investigated. There is a poetical sensibility 
which, in the progress of the mind, becomes as distinct a 
power as a musical ear or a picturesque eye. Without a 
considerable degree of this sensibility, it is as vain for a man 
of the greatest understanding to speak of the higher beau- 
ties of poetry, as it is for a blind man to speak of colours. 
To adopt the warmest sentiments of poetry, to realise its 
boldest imagery, to yield to every impulse of enthusiasm, 
to submit to the illusions of fancy, to retire with the poet 
into his ideal worlds, were dispositions wholly foreign from 
the worldly sagacity and stern shrewdness of Johnson . . . 
If this unpoetical character be considered, if the force of 
prejudice be estimated, if we bear in mind that in this 
work of his old age we must expect to find him enamoured 
of every paradox which he had supported with brilliant 
success, and that an old man seldom warmly admires those 
works which have appeared since his sensibility has become 
sluggish, and his literary system formed, we shall be able 
to account for most of the unjust judgments of Johnson, 



462 JOHNSONIANA. 

without recourse to any suppositions inconsistent with 
honesty and integrity. 

As in his judgment of life and character, so in his cri- 
ticism on poetry, he was a sort of Freethinker. He sus- 
pected the refined of affectation, he rejected the enthusiastic 
as absurd, and he took it for granted that the mysterious 
was unintelligible. He came into the world when the 
school of Dryden and Pope gave the law to English poetry. 
In that school he had himself learned to be a lofty and 
vigorous declaimer in harmonious verse; beyond that school 
his unforced admiration perhaps scarcely soared; and his 
highest effort of criticism was accordingly the noble pane- 
gyric on Dryden. His criticism owes its popularity as 
much to its defects as to its excellences. It was on a level 
with the majority of readers — persons of good sense and 
information, but of no exquisite sensibility; and to their 
minds it derived a false appearance of solidity from that 
very narrowness which excluded those grander efforts of 
imagination to which Aristotle and Bacon confined the 
name of poetry. 

Among the victories gained by Milton, one of the most 
signal is that which he obtained over all the prejudices of 
Johnson, who was compelled to make a most vigorous, 
though evidently reluctant, effort to do justice to the fame 
and genius of the greatest of English poets. The alacrity 
with which he seeks every occasion to escape from this 
painful duty in observation upon Milton's Life and Minor 
Poems, sufficiently attests the irresistible power of " Para- 
dise Lost." As he had no feeling of the lively and grace- 
ful, we must not wonder at his injustice to Prior. Some 
accidental impression, concurring with a long habit of in- 
dulging and venting every singularity, seems necessary to 
account for his having forgotten that Swift was a wit. As 
the Seasons appeared during the susceptible part of John- 
son's life, his admiration of Thomson prevailed over that 
ludicrous prejudice which he professed against Scotland, 
perhaps because it was a Presbyterian country. His in- 
sensibility to the higher order of poetry, his dislike of a 
Whig university, and his scorn of a fantastic character, 
combined to produce that monstrous example of critical 
injustice which he entitles the Life of Gray. 

Such is the character which may be bestowed on John- 



JOHNSONIANA, 463 

son by those who feel a profound reverence for his virtues, 
and a respect approaching to admiration for his intellectual 
powers, without adopting his prejudices, or being insen- 
sible to his defects. (^Memoirs of Sir James Mackintosh, 
1835, vol. ii. p. 166.) 

698. Johnson's Epitaph on Mr. Thrale. 

Of his departed friend (says Dr. Anderson), Johnson 
has given a true character in a Latin epitaph, inscribed on 
his monument in Streatham church. Besides the example 
of aflecting gratitude which it records, it is preserved here 
as an instance of the facility with which the heart of a 
friend finds topics of praise, to endear a worthy man to 
posterity, without falsehood or adulation. The morality 
of the conclusion is striking and instructive: — 

" In the same tomb lie interred his father, Ralph Thrale, a man 
of vigour and activity, and his only son, Henry, who died before 
his father, aged ten years. Thus a happy and opulent family, 
raised by the grandfather, and augmented by the father, became 
extinguished with the grandson. Go, reader; and, reflecting on 
the vicissitudes of all human aflairs, meditate on eternity!" 

Hie conditur quod reliquum est 

Henrici Thrale, 

Q.ui res seu civiles, seu domeslicas, ita egit, 

Ut vitam illi longiorera multi optarent; 

Ita sacras, 

Ul quam brevem esset habilurus pr^scire videretur ; 

Simplex, apertus, sibique semper similis, 

Nihil ostentavit aut arte Actum aut cura 

Elaboratum. 

In senatu, regi patriasque 

Fideliter sluduit ; 

Vulgl obstrepentis contemptor animosus, 

Domi inter raille mercaturaj negotia 

Literarum elegantiam minimi neglexit. 

Amicis quocunque modo laborantibus 

Conciliis, auctorilale, muneribus, adfuit. 

Inter familiares, comites, convivas, hospites, 

Tam facili fuit morum suavitate 

Ut omnium animos ad se alliceret; 

Tam felici sermonis libertate 

Ut nulli adulatus, omnibus placeret. 

Natus 1724. Obiit 1781. 

Consortes tumuli habit R,odolphum patrem, strenuum 

Fortemque virum, et Henricuni filiuni unicurn, 

duem spei parentum mors inopina decennem praeripuit. 



464 JOHNSONIANA. 

Ita 

Domus felix et opulenta, quam erexit 

Avus, auxitque pater, cum nepote decidit. 

Abi Viator! 

Et vicibus rerum humanarum perspectis, 

^ternitatem cogita! 

699. Johnson's Epitaph on his Father, Mother, and 
Brother. 

A few days before his death Johnson composed the fol- 
lowing epitaph for his father, mother, and brother; and 
wrote to Mr, Green, of Lichfield, desiring that it might be 
" engraved on a stone, deep, massy, and hard," laid on the 
exact place of interment, in the middle aisle of St. Michael's 
church; and hoped " it might be done while he was yet 
alive." 



H. S. E. 

Michael Johnson, 

Vir impavidis, constans, animosus, periculorum immemor, labo- 
rum paiientissimus; fiducia Christiana fortis, fervidusque, pater- 
familias apprimesirenuus; bibliopola admoduin peritus; menteet 
libris et negotiis exculla; animo ita firmo, ut, rebus adversis diu 
conflicatus, nee sibi nee suis deluerit: lingua sic tempcrata, ut ei 
nihil quod aures, vel pias, vel castas Isesisset, aut dolor, vel volup- 
tas unquam expresserit. 

Natus Cubleioe, in agro Derbiensi, Anno 1G5G. 
Obiit 1731. 

Apposita est Sara, conjux. 
Antiqua Fordorum genie oriunda; quam domi sedulam, foris 
paucis notam; nulli molestam, mentis acumine et judicii subtili- 
tate praecelentem; aliis multum, sibi parum indulgentem: ^ter- 
nitati semper attentam, omne fere virtutis nomen commendavit. 

Nata Norlonise Regis, in agro Varvicensi, Anno 16G9; 
Obiit 1759. 

Cum Nathanaele illorura Alio, qui natus 1712, cum vires et 
animi, et corporis multa pollicerentur, Anno 1737, vitam brevem 
pia morle finivnt. 

700. Busts of Johnson and Garrick in Lichjield 

Cathedral. 
In the Dean's consistory court, adjoining the south 



JOHNSONIANA. 465 

transept of the cathedral church of Lichfield, a bust has been 
erected, with the following inscription: — 

The Friends of Samuel Johnson, ll.d., 

A native of Lichfield, 

Erected this Monument 

As a tribute of respect to the memory of 

A man of extensive learning, 

A distinguished moral writer, and a sincere Christian. 

He died the 13lh of December, 1784, aged 75 years. 

Near it is a similar bust of Garrick, erected by his relict, 
after a design of the same artists, Wyatt, architect, and 
Westmacott, sculptor, with the following inscription, com- 
bining the desiderwm chari conjtigis with Johnson's 
emphatic eulogy on the dramatic talents of his deceased 
friend: — 

Eva Maria, relict of David Garrick, Esq. 
caused this monument to be erected to the memory 

of her beloved husbind; 

who died the 20ih of January, 1779, aged 63 years. 

He had not only the amiable qualities of private life, 

but such astonishing dramatic talents, 

as loo well verified the observation of his friend, 

" His death eclipsed the gaiety of nations, 

and impoverished the public stock of "harmless pleasure." 

701. Johnson's Parents. 

Of Michael Johnson little is generally known, beyond 
the fact that he was a tradesman at Lichfield; and no attempt 
has hitherto been made to bring into one point the few par- 
ticulars concerning him that lie scattered through various 
volumes. Yet this Avould appear to be a mark of respect 
due, if not to his own merit, to that of his admirable son; 
and in the hope that it may incite some one to undertake 
a more finished composition, the subjoined outline of a 
memoir has been compiled. 

He was a native of Derbyshire; but of origin so obscure, 
that Dr. Johnson once said to Boswell, "1 have great merit 
in being zealous for the honours of birth, for I can hardly 
tell who was my grandfather." He married, at a some- 
what advanced age, one Sarah Ford, by whom he had two 
sons; but the period of his settling at Lichfield is doubtful, 
though it certainly was some time prior to the close of the 
seventeenth century, as I find his name anno 1687, in a 
30 



466 JOHNSONIANA. 

list of subscribers to a fund for recasting the bells of the 
Cathedral, towards which he contributed 10s. In 1709 he 
was sheriff of the city; and in tlie same year was born his 
celebrated son, whose baptism is thus recorded in the Re- 
gister of St. Michael's Church: — 

"Sept. 17, 1709, Samuel, son of Michael Johnson, Gent, baptized." 

One of his godfathers was Dr. Swinfen, a physician of 
the city. Three years after, the baptism of his brother is 
thus entered in the same Register: — 

" Oct. 14. 1712, Nathaniel, son of Mr. Michael Johnson, baptized." 

The circumstances of Michael Johnson appear to have 
been for many years extremely narrow; but by untiring 
industry, he at length acquired some little property, Avhich 
he lost by speculating in the manufacture of parchment, 
and became a bankrupt in 1731, while his son Samuel 
was at Oxford. The generous assistance which on this 
occasion he received from various quarters, seems to prove 
that his character was held in great esteem. Dr. Johnson 
told Sir John Hawkins that, amongst others, Mr. Innys, 
bookseller of St. Paul's Church-yard, was a material friend; 
" and this," said he, " I consider as an obligation on me 
to be grateful to his descendants," to whom he accordingly 
bequeathed 200/. Soon after his insolvency took place, 
Michael died, and the sum of 20/. was all that his son 
received from the produce of his effects. 

It is a fact but little known, and which escaped the 
industrious inquiry of Boswell, that during the two years 
which he passed at home, before proceeding to Oxford, 
Dr. Johnson was engaged in learning his father's business. 
The " Short Account of Lichfield," 1819, says that " books 
of his binding are still extant in that city." It was at this 
period, I presume, that in a fit of pride he once refused 
obedience to his father, who desired him to attend the book- 
stall at Uttoxeter market; in contrition for which, towards 
the close of his life, (as he told the Rev. H. White,) he 
repaired to the spot, and stood for a considerable time 
bareheaded in the rain, by way of expiatory penance. 

The house at the corner of Sadler Street, Lichfield, in 
which Michael Johnson resided, and in which Samuel was 
born, is still standing. Views of it occur in the Gentle- 



JOHNSONIANA. 467 

man's Magazine, February, 1785; in the " Short Account 
of Lichfiehl," above mentioned; and in various other 
works. It was built by Michael Johnson on land belong- 
ing to the corporation, in whose records there appears this 
entry, under date 13th July, 1708: — "Agreed that Mr. 
Michael Johnson, bookseller, have a lease of his encroach- 
ment of his house in Sadler Street and Women's Cheaping, 
for forty years, at 2*. 6d. per annum." Boswell has pre- 
served the particulars of a proceeding, in which the bailiffs 
and citizens, to their great honour, on the expiration of a 
second lease in 1767, resolved that it should be renewed 
to Dr. Johnson for a further term of ninety years, at the 
old rent, and without payment of any fine. After her 
husband's decease, Johnson's mother continued the busi- 
ness, though of course on a more contracted scale. Among 
the names of subscribers to the " Harleian Miscellany," 
there occurs that of " Sarah Johnson, bookseller in Lich- 
field. "(*) 

702. ''Looking at the Backs of Books." 

When Johnson, in April 1775, visited Richard Owen 
Cambridge, Esq.(t) at his villa, near Twickenham, no 
sooner had he made his bow to his host in his library, 
than he ran eagerly to one side of the room, intent on 
poring over the backs of the books. Mr, Cambridge po- 
litely said, " Dr. Johnson, I am going, with your pardon, 
to accuse myself, for I have the same custom that I per- 

(*)[Gent. Mag. Oct. 1829.] 

(+) [Richard Owen Cambridge, Esq. author of the " Scrible- 
riad," a mock heroic poem, and of several essays in "The World." 
Boswell has thus sketched his character: — " If a beautiful villa 
on the banks of the Thames, a numerous and excellent library, 
which he accurately knows and reads, a choice collection of 
pictures, which he understands and relishes, an easy fortune, an 
amiable family, an extensive circle of friends and acquaintance 
distinguished by rank, fashion, and genius, a literary fame, 
various, elegant, and still increasing, colloquial talents rarely to 
be found, and, with all these means of happiness, enjoying, when 
well advanced in years, health and vigour of body, serenity and 
animation of mind, do not entitle to be ?iddres^ed fortunate Senex! 
I know not to whom, in any age, that expression could with pro- 
priety have been used. Long may he live to hear and to feel it!" 
Mr. Cambridge died, September 17, 1802, in his eighty-sixth 
year.] 



468 JOHNSONIANA. 

ceive you have. But it seems odd that we should have 
such a desire to look at the backs of books." " Sir," re- 
plied Johnson, " the reason is very plain. Knowledge is 
of two kinds. We know a subject ourselves, or we know 
where we can find information upon it. When we inquire 
into any subject, the first thing we have to do is to know 
what books have treated of it. This leads us to look at 
catalogues, and the backs of books in libraries." 

703. Singidar Misquotation. 

There is a curious error in Dr. Johnson's Dictionary 
which has not hitherto been noticed. It occurs in De- 
finition 13, of the verb " To sit," and pervades every 
edition that we have yet seen, even Mr. Todd's. " Asses 
are ye that sit in judgment. Judges, v. 10." The verse 
is — " Speak, ye that ride on white asses, ye that sit in 
Judgment, and walk by the way." Were not Dr. John- 
son's reverence for the Scriptures too well known to allow 
us to imagine that he would wilfully pervert them; we 
might suppose that he, who gave the definition of Excise 
and Renegade, had intended, by anticipation, to express 
his opinion of the censure of his critics. 



469 



Part XXXIII. 

JEUX D'ESPRIT ON JOHNSON'S BIO- 
GRAPHERS. 



No. I.— LESSON IN BIOGRAPHY. 

OR, HOW TO WRITE THE LIFE OF ONE's FRIEND. 

{An Extract from the Life op Dr. Pozz, i?i ten volumes/olio, writ- 
ten by James Bozz, Esq., who flourished with him near fifty 
years.) 

By Alexander Chalmers, Esq.(*) 

We dined at the chop-house. Dr. Pozz was this day 
very instructive. We talked of books. I mentioned the 
History of Tommy Trip. I said it was a great work. 
Pozz. " Yes, sir, it is a great work; but, sir, it is a great 
work relatively; it was a great work to you when you was 
a little boy: but now, sir, you are a great man, and Tommy 
Trip is a little boy." I felt somewhat hurt at this com- 
parison, and I believe he perceived it; for, as he was 
squeezing a lemon, he said, " Never be affronted at a com- 
parison. I have been compared to many things, but I 
never was affronted. No, sir, if they would call me a 

(*) [Among the numerous parodies and^Vw.r (Tesprit which Mr. 
Boswell's work produced, this pleasantry from the pen of Mr. 
Alexander Chalmers, which appeared in the periodical publica- 
tions of the day, is worth preserving; for it is not merely a good 
pleasantry, but a fair criticism of some of the lighter parts of the 
work. — C] 



470 JOHNSONIANA. 

dog, and you a canister tied to my tail, I would not be 
affronted." 

Cheered by this kind mention of me, though in such a 
situation, I asked him what he thought of a friend of ours, 
who was always making comparisons. Pozz. "Sir, that 
fellow has a simile for everything but himself. I knew 
him Avhen he kept a shop: he then made money, sir, and 
now he makes comparisons. Sir, he would say that you 
and I were two figs stuck together; two figs in adhesion, 
sir; and then he would laugh." Bozz. " But have not 
some great writers determined that comparisons are now 
and then odious?^' Pozz. " No, sir, not odious in them- 
selves, not odious as comparisons; the fellows who make 
them are odious. The Whigs make comparisons." 

We supped that evening at his house. I showed him 
some lines I had made upon a pair of breeches. Pozz. 
" Sir, the lines are good; but where could you find such 
a subject in your country?" Bozz. " Therefore it is a 
proof of invention, which is a characteristic of poetry." 
Pozz. "Yes, sir, but an invention which few of your 
countrymen can enjoy." I reflected afterwards on the 
depth of this remark: it affords a proof of that acuteness 
which he displayed in every branch of literature. I asked 
him if he approved of green spectacles? Pozz. " As to 
green spectacles, sir, the question seems to be this: if I 
wore green spectacles, it would be because they assisted 
vision, or because I liked them. Now, sir, if a man tells 
me he does not like green spectacles, and that they hurt 
his eyes, I would not compel him to wear them. No, sir, 
I would dissuade him." A few months after, I consulted 
him again on this subject, and he honoured me with a 
letter, in which he gives the same opinion. It will be found 
in its proper place. Vol. VI. p. 2789. I have thought much 
on this subject, and must confess that in such matters a 
man ought to be a free moral agent. 

Next day I left town, and was absent for six weeks, 
three days, and seven hours, as I find by a memorandum 
in my journal. In this time I had only one letter from 
him, which is as follows: — 

« TO JAMES BOZZ, ESQ. 
" Dear Sir, — My bowels have been very bad. Pray buy me 



JEUX d'eSPRIT CHALMERS. 471 

some Turkey rhubarb, and bring with you a copy of your 
'Tour.' 

"Write to me soon, and write to me often. I am, dear sir, 
yours affectionately, S.\m Pozz." 

It would have been unpardonable to have omitted a letter 
like this, in which we see so much of his great and illumi- 
nated mind. On my return to town, we met again at the 
chop-house. We had much conversation to-day: his wit 
flashed like lightning: indeed, there is not one hour of my 
present life in which I do not profit by some of his valuable 
communications. 

We talked of ivind. I said I knew many persons much 
distressed with that complaint. Pozz. " Yes, sir, when 
confined, when pent up." I said I did not know that, but 
I questioned if the Romans ever knew it. Pozz. " Yes, 
sir, the Romans knew it." Bozz. " Livy does not men- 
tion it." Pozz. " No, sir, Livy wrote History. Livy 
was not writing the Life of a Friend." 

On medical subjects his knowledge was immense. He 
told me of a friend of ours who had just been attacked by 
a most dreadful complaint: he had entirely lost the use of 
his lintibs, so that he could neither stand or walk, unless 
supported: his speech was quite gone; his eyes were much 
swollen, and every vein distended, yet his face was rather 
pale, and his extremities cold; his pulse beat 160 in a 
minute. I said, with tenderness, that I would go and see 
him; and, said I, " Sir, I will take Dr. Bolus with me." 
Pozz. " No, sir, don't go." I was startled, for I knew 
his compassionate heart, and earnestly asked why? Pozz. 
" Sir, you don't know his disorder." Bozz. " Pray what 
is it?" Pozz. " Sir, the man is — dead di'unkP^ This 
explanation threw me into a violent fit of laughter, in which 
he joined me, rolling about as he used to do when he en- 
joyed a joke; but he afterwards checked me. Pozz. 
" Sir, you ought not to laugh at what I said. Sir, he 
who laughs at what another man says, will soon learn to 
laugh at that other man. Sir, you should laugh only at 
your own jokes; you should laugh seldom." 

We talked of a friend of ours who was a very violent 
politician. I said I did not like his company. Pozz. 
" No, sir, he is not healthy; he is sore, sir; his mind is 
ulcerated; he has a political whitlow; sir, you cannot touch 



472 JOHNSONIANA. 

him without giving him pain. Sir, I would not talk po- 
litics with that man: I would talk of cabbage and peas: 
sir, I would ask him how he got his corn in, and whether 
his wife was with child; but I would not talk politics." 
Bozz. " But perhaps, sir, he would talk of nothing else." 
Pozz, " Then, sir, it is plain what he would do." On 
my very earnestly inquiring what that was, Dr. Pozz 
answered, " Sir, he would let it alone." 

I mentioned a tradesman who had lately set up his coach. 
Pozz. " He is right, sir; a man who would go on swim- 
mingly cannot get too soon off his legs. That man keeps 
his coach. Now, sir, a coach is better than a chaise, sir — 
it is better than a chariot." Bozz. " Why, sir?" Pozz. 
" Sir, it will hold more." I begged he would repeat this, 
that I might remember it, and he complied with great good 
humour. "Dr. Pozz," said I, '■'■you ought to keep a 
coach." Vq)7.t.. " Yes, sir, I ought." Bozz. " But you 
do not, and that has often surprised me." Pozz. " Sur- 
prised you! There, sir, is another prejudice of absurdity. 
Sir, you ought to be surprised at nothing. A man that has 
lived half your days ought to be above all surprise. Sir, 
it is a rule with me never to be surprised. It is mere igno- 
rance; you cannot guess why I do not keep a coach, and 
you are surprised. Now, sir, if you did know, you would 
not be surprised." I said, tenderly, " I hope, my dear 
sir, you will let me know before I leave town." Pozz. 
" Yes, sir, you shall know now. You shall not go to Mr. 
Wilkins, and to Mr. Jenkins, and to Mr. Slubbs, and say, 
why does not Pozz keep a coach? I will tell you myself 
— Sir, I can't afford it." 

We talked of drinking. I asked him whether, in the 
course of his long and valuable life, he had not known 
some men who drank more than they could bear? Pozz. 
" Yes, sir; and then, sir, nobody could bear them. A 
man who is drunk, sir, is a very foolish fellow." Bozz. 
"But, sir, as the poet says, 'he is devoid of all care.'" 
Pozz. " Yes, sir, he cares for nobody; he has none of 
the cares of life: he cannot be a merchant, sir, for he can- 
not write his name; he cannot be a politician, sir, for he 
cannot talk; he cannot be an artist, sir, for he cannot see; 
and yet, sir, there is science in drinking." Bozz. " I 
suppose you mean that i man ought to know what he 



JEUX d'eSPRIT CHALMERS. 473 

drinks." Pozz. " No, sir, to know wliat one drinks is 
nothing; but the science consists of three parts. Now, 
sir, were I to drink wine, I shoukl wish to known them 
all; I should wish to know when I had too little, when I 
had enough, and when I had too much. There is our 
friend s****** (mentioning a gentleman of our acquaint- 
ance); he knows when he has too little, and when he has 
too mucli, but he knows not when he has enough. Now, 
sir, that is the science of drinking, to know when one has 
enough." 

We talked this day of a variety of topics, but I find very 
few memorandums in my journal. On small beer, he said 
it was flatulent liquor. He disapproved of those who deny 
the utility of absolute power, and seemed to be offended 
with a friend of ours who would always have his eggs 
poached. Sign-posts, he observed, had degenerated within 
his memory; and he particularly found fault with the moral 
of the " Beffgar's Opera." I endeavoured to defend a work • 
which had afforded me so much pleasure, but could not 
master that strength of mind with which he argued; and it 
was with great satisfaction that he communicated to me 
afterwards a method of curing corns by applying a piece of 
oiled silk. In the early history of the world, he preferred 
Sir Isaac Newton's Chronology; but as they gave employ- 
ment to useful artisans, he did not dislike the large buckles 
then coming into use. 

Next day we dined at the Mitre. I mentioned spirits. 
Pozz. " Sir, there is as much evidence for the existence 
of spirits as against it. You may not believe it, but you 
cannot deny it." I told him that my great grandmother 
once saw a spirit. He asked me to relate it, which I did 
very minutely, while he listened with profound attention. 
When I mentioned that the spirit once appeared in the 
shape of a shoulder of mutton, and another time in that of 
a tea-pot, he interrupted me: — Pozz. "There, sir, is the 
point; the evidence is good, but the scheme is defective in 
consistency. We cannot deny that the spirit appeared in 
these shapes; but then we cannot reconcile them. What 
has a tea-pot to do with a shoulder of mutton! Neither is 
it a terrific object. There is nothing contemporaneous. 
Sir, these are objects Avhich are not seen at the same time 



474 JOHNSONIANA. 

nor in the same place." Bozz. " I think, sir, that old 
women in general are used to see ghosts. Pozz. " Yes, 
sir, and their conversation is full of the subject: I would 
have an old woman to record such conversations; their 
loquacity tends to minuteness." 

We talked of a person who had a very bad character. 
Pozz. " Sir, he is a scoundrel." Bozz. " I hate a scoun- 
drel." Pozz. " There you are wrong: don't hate scoun- 
drels. Scoundrels, sir, are useful. There are many things 
we cannot do without scoundrels. I would not choose to 
keep company with scoundrels, but something may be got 
from them." Bozz. " Are not scoundrels generally fools?" 
Pozz. " No, sir, they are not. A scoundrel must be a 
clever fellow; he must know many things of which a fool 
is ignorant. Any man may be a fool. I think a good book 
might be made out of scoundrels. I would have a Bio- 
graphia Flagitiosa, the Lives of Eminent Scoundrels, 
from the earliest accounts to the present day." I mentioned 
hanging: I thought it a very awkward situation. Pozz. 
" No, sir, hanging is not an awkward situation; it is proper, 
sir, that a man whose actions tend towards flagitious obli- 
quity should appear perpendicular at last." I told him 
that I had lately been in company with some gentlemen, 
every one of whom could recollect some friend or other 
who had been hanged. Pozz. " Yes, sir, that is the easiest 
way. We know those who have been hanged; we can 
recollect that: but we cannot number those who deserve it; 
it would not be decorous, sir, in a mixed company. No, 
sir, that is one of the few things which we are compelled 
to think." 

Our regard for literary property (*) prevents our 
making a larger extract from the above important work. 
We have, however, we hope, given such passages as will 
tend to impress our readers ivith a high idea of this vast 
undertaking. — Note by the Author. 

(*) [This alludes to the jealousy about copyright, which Mr. 
Boswell carried so far that he actually printed separately, and 
entered at Stationers' Hall, Johnson's Letter to Lord Chesterfield, 
and the account of Johnson's Conversation with George III. at 
Buckingham House, to prevent his rivals making use of them. 
-C] 



JOHNSONIANA. 475 



No. II.— DR. JOHNSON'S GHOST. 
[From the Gentleman's Magazine, vol. Ivi. p. 427. 

'TwAS at the solemn hour of night 

When men and spirits meet, 
That Johnson, huge majestic sprite, 

Repair'd to Boswell's feet. 

His face was like the fuU-orb'd moon 

Wrapt in a threatening cloud, 
That bodes the tempest bursting soon, 

And winds that bluster loud. 

Terrific was his angry look. 

His pendant eyebrows frown 'd ; 
Thrice in his hand he wav'd a book, 

Then dash'd it on the ground. 

" Behold," he cry'd, " perfidious man! 
This object of my rage : 
Bethink thee of the sordid plan 
That form'd this venal page. 

" Was it to make this base record, 
That you ray friendship sought ; 
Thus to retain each vagrant word, 
Each undigested thought? 

" Dar'st thou pretend that, meaning praise, 
Thou seek'st to raise my name; 
When all thy babbling pen betrays 
But gives me churlish fame.' 

"Do readers in these annals trace 
The man that's wise and good? 
No! — rather one of savage race, 
lUib'ral, fierce, and rude: 

"A traveller, whose discontent 
No kindness can appease : 
Who finds for spleen pepetual vent 
In all he hears and sees : 

" One whose ingratitude displays 
The most ungracious guest ; 
Who hospitality repays 
With bitter, biting jest. 

" Ah! would, as o'er the hills we sped. 
And climb'd the sterile rocks, 
Some vengeful stone had struck thee dead, 
Or steeple, spar'd by Knox! 



476 JOHNSONIANA. 

" Thy adulation now I see, 

And all its schemes unfold : 
Thy av'rice, Boswell, cherish'd me, 
To turn me into gold. 

" So keepers guard the beasts they show, 
And for their wants provide; 
Attend their steps where'er they go. 
And travel by their side. 

" O! were it not that, deep and low, 

Beyond thy reach I'm laid. 

Rapacious Boswell had ere now 

Johnson a mummy made." 

He ceas'd, and stalk'd from Boswell's sight 
With fierce indignant mien, 

Scornful as Ajax' sullen sprite, 
By sage Ulysses seen. 

Dead paleness Boswell's cheek o'erspread. 
His limbs with horror shook ; 

With trembling haste he left his bed, 
And buriit his fatal book. 

And thrice he call'd on Johnson's name, 

Forgiveness to implore ! 
Then thrice repeated^" injured fame!" 

And word — wrote never more. 



No. HI.— A POSTHUMOUS WORK OF S. JOHNSON. 

/ An Ode, April 15, 1786. 

BY GEORGE COLMAN, ESQ. 

St. Paul's deep bell, from stately tow'r. 
Had sounded once and twice the hour. 

Blue burnt the midnight taper; 
Hags their dark spells o'er caldron brew'd. 
While Sons of Ink their work pursu'd. 

Printing the Morning Paper. 

Say, Herald, Chroiiicle, or Post, 

Which then beheld great Johnson's Ghost, 

Grim, horrible, and squalid ? 
Compositors iheir letters dropt, 
Pressmen their groaning engine stopt. 

And devils all grew pallid. 



JEUX d'eSPRIT COLMAN. 477 

Enough! the Spectre cried; Enough! 
No more of your fugacious stuff, 

Trite Anecdotes and Stories; 
Rude Martyrs of Sam. Johnson's name, 
You rob him of his honest fame, 

And tarnish all his glories. 

First in the futile tribe is seen 
Tom Tyers in the Magazine, 

That teazer of Apollo ! 
With goose-quill he, like desperate knife, 
Slices, as Vauxhall beef, my life, 

And calls the town to swallow. 

The cry once up, the Dogs of News, 
Who hunt for paragraphs the stews, 

Yelp out JoHNSONIANA ! 

Their nauseous praise but moves my bile, 
Like Tartar, Carduus, Camomile, 
Or Ipecacuanha. 

Next Bos WELL comes (for 'twas my lot 
To find at last one honest Scot) 

With constitutional vivacity; 
Yet Garrulous, he tells too much, 
On fancied failings prone to touch. 

With sedulous loquacity. 

At length — Job's patience it would tire — 
Brew'd on my lees, comes Thrale's Entire, 

Straining to draw my picture; 
For She a common-place book kept, 
Johnson at Streatham dined and slept. 

And who shall contradict her? 

Thrale, lost 'mongst Fiddlers and Sopranos, 
With them play Fortes and Pianos, 

Adagio and Allegro! 
I lov'd Thrale's widow and Thrale's wife; 
But now, believe, to write my life 

I'd rather trust my negro. (*) 

I gave the Public works of merit, 
Written with vigour, fraught with spirit; 

Applause crown'd all my labours: 
But thy delusive pages speak 
My palsied pow'rs, exhausted, weak, 

The scoiTof friends and neighbours. 

They speak me insolent and rude. 
Light, trivial, puerile, and crude. 
The child of Pride and Vanity; 

(*) His black servant. 



478 JOHNSONIANA. 

Poor Tuscan-like Improvisation 
Is but of English sense castration, 
And infantine inanity. 

Such idle rhymes, like Sybil's leaves, 
Kindly the scatt'ring wind receives; 

The gath'rer proves a scorner. 
But hold! I see the coming day! 
— The Spectre said, and stalk'd away 

To sleep in Poets' Corner. 



No. IV.— A POETICAL AND CONGRATULATORY 
EPISTLE TO JAMES BOSWELL, ESa. 

On his Journal of a Tour to the Hebrides with the celebrated 
Doctor Joh7ison. 



BY PETER PINDAR, ESQ.(*) 



— Tfiieira-tv ISouXsto xZ^o; opk^ai, HoMER. 



O BoswELL, Bozzy, Bruce, whate'er thy name, 
Thou mighty shark for anecdote and fame; 
Thou jackall, leading lion Johnson forth, 
To eat M'Pherson 'midst his native North ; 
To frighten grave professors with his roar. 
And shake the Hebrides from shore to shore — 
All hail! — At length, ambitious Thane, thy rage 
To give one spark to Fame's bespangled page 
Is amply gratified — a thousand eyes 
Survey thy books with rapture and surprise I 
Loud, of thy Tour, a thousand tongues have spoken. 
And wondered — that thy bones were never broken ! 

Triumphant thou through Time's vast gulf shalt sail 
The pilot of our literary whale ; 
Close to the classic Rambler shalt thou cling. 
Close as a supple courtier to a king ! 
Fate shall not shake thee off with all its power, 
Stuck like a bat to some old ivied tower. 
Nay, though thy Johnson ne'er had blessed thy eyes, 
Paoli's deeds had raised thee to the skies I 
Yes ! his broad wing had raised thee (no bad hack) 
A torn-tit, twittering on an eagle's back. 

(*) [Dr. Walcot, published in 1787.] 



JEUX d'eSPRIT PETER PINDAR. 479 

Thou, curious scrapmonger, shall live in song, 
When death halh stili'd the rattle of thy tongue; 
Even future babes to lisp thy name shall Icain, 
And Bozzy join with Wood, and Tummy Hearn, 
Who drove the spiders from much prose and rhyme, 
And snatch'd old stories from the jaws of time. 

Sweet is thy page, I ween, that doth recite, 
How thou and Johnson, arm in arm one night, 
Marched through fair Edinburgh's Pactolian showers, 
Which Cloacina bountifully pours: 
How sweetly grumbled too, was Sam's remark, 
" I smell you, Master Bozzy, in the dark!" (*) 
Alas! historians are confounded dull, 
A dim Boeotia reigns in every skull ; 
Mere beasts of burden, broken-winded, slow, 
Heavy as dromedaries, on they go. 
Whilst thou, a Will-o'-wisp, art here, art there, 
Wild darting corruscalions everywhere. 
What tasteless mouth can gape, what eye can close, 
What head can nod, o'er thy enlivening prose? 
Think not I flatter thee, my flippant friend; 
For well I know that flattery would ofi^end ; 
Yet honest praise, I'm sure, thou wouldst not shun. 
Born with a stomach to digest a tun 1 
Who can refuse a smile, that reads thy page, 
Where surly Sam, inflamed with Tory rage, 
Nassau bescoundrels, and with anger big. 
Swears Whigs are rogues, and every rogue a Whig; 
Who will not, too, thy pen's minuticc bless, 
That give's posterity the Rambler's dress? 
Methinks I view his full, plain suit of brown. 
The large gray bushy wig, that grac'd his crown; 
Black worsted stockings, little silverbuckles; 
And shirt, that had no ruSles for his knuckles. 
I mark the brown great-coat of cloth he wore, 
That two huge Patagonian pockets bore, 
Which Patagonians (wondrous to unfold!) (+) 
Would fairly both his Dictionaries hold. 
I see the Rambler on a large bay mare. 
Just like a Centaur, every danger dare ; 

(♦) [" Mr Johnson and I walked arm and arm, up the High 
Street, to my house in James's Court: it was a dusky night; I 
could not prevent his being assailed by the evening eflluvia of 
Edinburgh. As we marched slowly along, he grumbled in my 
ear, ' I smell you in the dark.' " — Boswell.] 

(+) [" He wore a full suit of plain brown clothes, a large bushy 
grayish wig, black worsted stockings, and silver buckles. Upon 
this lour, when journeying, he wore boots, and a very wide brown 
cloth great-coat, with pockets which might almost have held the 
two volumes of his folio Dictionary; and he carried in his hand 
a large English oak stick." — Boswell.] 



480 JOHNSONIANA. 

On a full gallop dash the yielding wind; 
The coll and Bozzy scampering close behind. 

Of Lady Lochbuy with what glee we read, 
Who otfer'd Sam, for breakfast, cold sheep's head; 
Who press'd, and worried by this dame so civil. 
Wished llie sheep's head and woman's at the devil. 

I see you sailing both in Buchan's pot — 
Now storming an old woman and her cot, 
Who, terrihed at each tremendous shape, 
Deem'd you two demons, ready for a rape: 
I see all marvelling at M'Leod's together, 
On Sam's remarks on whey, and tanning leather: 
At Corrichatachin's, the Lord knows how, 
I see thee, Bozzy, drunk as David's sow, 
And begging, with raised eyes and lengthen'd chin, 
Heaven not to damn thee for the deadly sin; 
I see, too, the stern moralist regale, 
And pen a Latin ode to Mrs. Thrale. 
I see, without a night-cap on his head. 
Rare Sight! bald Sam, in the Pretender's bed ; 
1 hear (what's wonderful!) unsought by studying, 
His classic dissertation upon pudding: 
Of provost Jopp I mark the marvelling face. 
Who gave the Rambler's freedom with a grace: 
I see, too, travelling from the Isle of Egg, 
The humble servant of a horse's leg; 
And Snip, the tailor, from the Isle of Muck, 
Who stitch'd in Sky with tolerable luck : 
I see the horn, that drunkards must adore, 
The horn, the mighty horn of Rorie More; 
And bloody shields, that guarded hearts in quarrels, 
Now guard from rats the milk and butter barrels. 
Methinks, the Caledonian dame I see, 
Familiar sitting on the Rambler's knee. 
Charming, with kisses sweet, the chuckling sage ; 
Melting, with sweetest smiles, the frost ol' age; 
Like Sol, who darts, at times, a cheerful ray. 
O'er the wan visage of a winter's day. 
" Do it again, my dear," I hear Sam cry, 
"See, who first tires, ony charmer!) you or I." 
I see thee stuffing, with a hand uncouth. 
An old dried whiting in thy Johnson's mouth ; 
And lo! I see, with all his might and main, 
Thy Johnson spit the whiting out again. 
Rare anecdotes! 'tis anecdotes like these. 
That bring thee glory, and the million please! 
On these shall future times delighted stare. 
Thou charming haberdasher of small ware! 
Stewart and Robertson from thee shall learn 
The simple charms of history to discern: 



JEUX d'eSPRIT PETER PINDAR. 481 

To thee fair history's palm shall Livy yield, 

And Tacitus to Bozzy leave the held! 

Joe Miller's self, whose page such fun provokes, 

Shall quit his shroud, to grin at Bozzy's jokes ! 

How are we all with rapture louch'd, to see 

Where, when, and at what hour, you swallowed tea; 

How, once, lo grace this Asiatic treat. 

Came haddocks, which the Rambler could not eat ! 

Pleased on thy book thy sovereign's eyeballs I'oll, 
Who loves a gossip's story from his soul ; 
Blest with the memory of the Persian king,(*) 
He every body knows, and every thing ; 
Who's dead, who's married, what poor girl, beguiled, 
Hath lost a paramour and found a child ; 
Which gardener hath most cabbages and peas. 
And which old woman hath most hives of bees; 
Which farmer boasts the most prolific sows. 
Cocks, hens, geese, turkeys, goats, sheep, bulls, and cows; 
Which barber best the ladies' locks can curl ; 
Which house in Windsor sells the finest purl; 
Which chimney-sweep best beats in gold array, 
His brush and shovel, on the first of May! 
Whose dancing dogs in rigadoons excel ; 
And whose the puppet show, that bears the bell : 
Which clever smith, the prettiest man-trap makes 
To save from thieves the royal ducks and drakes, 
The Guinea hens and peacocks with their eggs, 
And catch his loving subjects by the legs. 
O! since the prince of gossips reads thy book, 
To what high honours may not Bozzy look! 
The sunshine of his smile may soon be thine — 
Perchance, in converse thou may'st hear him shine. 
Perchance, to stamp thy merit through the nation, 
He begs of Johnson's Life, thy dedication ; 
Asks questions(t) of thee, O thou lucky elf, 
And kindly answers every one himself. 
Blest with the classic learning of a college. 
Our king is not a miser in his knowledge: 
Naught in the storehouse of his brains turns musty; 
No razor-wit, for want of use, grows rusty ; 
Whate'er his head suggests, whaie'er he knows, 
Free as election beer from tubs it flows. 

(*) Cyrus. 

(+) Just after Dr. Johnson had been honoured with an interview 
with a certain great personage, in the Clueen's Library at Buck- 
ingham House, he was interrogated by a friend, concerning his 
reception, and his opinion of the royal intellect. — " His Majesty 
seems to be possessed of much goodnature, and much curiosity," 
replied the Doctor; "as for his vouj it is far from contemptible. 
His Majesty, indeed, was multifarious in his questions; but, thank 
God, he answered them all himself." 
31 



482 JOHNSONIANA. 

Yet, ah! superior far ! — it boasts the merit 

Of never fuddling people with the spirit. 

Say, Bozzy, when, to bless our anxious sight, 

When shall thy volume(*) burst the gates of light ? 

O! clothed in calf, ambitious brat, be born — 

Our kitchens, parlours, libraries adorn ! 

O Bozzy, still thy tell-tale plan pursue: 

The world is wondrous fond of something new : 

And, let but Scandal's breath embalm the page, 

It lives a welcome guest from age to age. 

Not only say who breathes an arrant knave. 

But who hath sneaked a rascal to his grave : 

Without a fear on families harangue. 

Say, who shall lose their ears, and who shall hang; 

Thy brilliant brain conjecture can supply. 

To charm through every leaf the eager eye. 

The blue-stocking society describe. 

And give thy comment on each joke and gibe: 

Tell what the women are, their wit, their quality, 

And dip them in thy streams of immortality. 

Let Lord Mac Donald threat thy breech to kick, 
And o'er thy shrinking shoulders shake his stick; 
Treat with contempt the menace of this lord, 
'Tis History's province, Bozzy, to record. 
Though Wilkes abuse thy brain, that airy mill, 
And swear poor Johnson murder'd by thy quill; 
What's that to thee? Why, let the victim bleed— 
Thy end is answer'd if the nation read. 
The fiddling knight, and tuneful Mrs. Thrale, 
Who frequent hobbed or nobbed with Sam in ale, 
Snatch up the pen (as thirst of fame inspires) 
To write his jokes and stories by their fires; 
Then why not thou each joke and tale enrol, 
Who, like a watchful cat before a hole. 
Full twenty years, inflamed with letter'd pride. 
Didst mousing sit before Sara's mouth so wide, 
To catch as many scraps as thou wert able — 
A very Lazarus at the rich man's table? 
What though against thee porters bounce the door, 
And bid thee hunt for secrets there no more. 
With pen and ink so ready at thy coat. 
Exciseman-like, each syllable to note. 
That given to printer's devils (a precious load !) 
On wings of print comes flying all abroad. 
Watch then the venal valets— smack the maids, 
And try with gold to make them rogues and jades: 
Yet should their honesty thy bribes resent, 
Fly to thy fertile genius and invent: 
Like old Voltaire, who placed his greatest glory 
In cooking up an entertaining story ; 

(♦) The Life of Dr. Johnson. 



JEUX d'eSPRIT PETER PINDAR. 483 

Who laugh'd at Truth, whene'er her simple tongue 
Would snatch amusement from a tale or song. 

O ! whilst amid the anecdotic mine, 
Thou labour'st hard to bid ihy hero shine, 
Run to Bolt Court, exert thy Curl-like soul, 
And fish for golden leaves from hole to hole : 
On tales, however strange, impose thy claw ; 
Yes, let thy amber lick up every straw ; 
Sam's nods, and winks, and laughs, will form a treat; 
For all that breathes of Johnson must be great! 

Bless'd be thy labours, most adventurous Bozzy, 

Bold rival of Sir John, and Dame Piozzi ; 

Heavens! with what laurels shall thy head be crown'd! 

A grove, a forest, shall thy ears surround. 

Yes ! whilst the Rambler shall a comet blaze. 

And gild a world of darkness with his rays. 

Thee loo that world with wonderment shall hail, 

A lively, bouncing cracker at his tail. 



Postscript. 

As Mr. Boswell's Journal has afforded such universal pleasure 
by the relation of minute incidents, and the great moralist's opi- 
nion of men and things, during his northern tour; it will be add- 
ing greatly to the anecdotical treasury, as well as making Mr. 
B. happy, to communicate part of a Dialogue that took place be- 
tween Dr. Johnson and the author of this Congratulatory Epistle, 
a few months before the Doctor paid the great debt of nature. 
The Doctor was very cheerful on that day; had on a black coat 
and waistcoat, a black plush pair of breeches, and black worsted 
stockings; a handsome gray wig, a shirt, a muslin neckcloth, a 
black pair of buttons in his shirt sleeves, a pair of shoes orna- 
mented with the very identical little buckles that accompanied the 
philosopher to the Hebrides; his nails were very neatly pared, 
and his beard fresh shaved with a razor fabricated by the inge- 
nious Mr. Savigny. 

P. P. Pray, Doctor, what is your opinion of Mr. Boswell's 
literary powers? 

Johnson. Sir, my opinion is, that whenever Bozzy expires, he 
will create no vacuum in the region of literature — he seems 
strongly affected by the cacoelhes scribendi; wishes to be thought 
a Tara avis; and in truth so he is — your knowledge in ornitho- 
logy, sir, will easily discover to what species of bird I allude. 
[Here the Doctor shook his head and laughed.) 

P. P. What think you, sir, of his account of Corsical — of his 
character of Paolil 

Johnson. Sir, he hath made a moimtain of a wart. But Paoli 



484 JOHNSONIANA. 

has virtues. The account is a farrago of disgusting egotism and 
pompous inanity. 

P. P. I have heard it whispered, Doctor, that, should you die 
before him, Mr. B. means to write your life. 

Johnson. Sir, he cannot mean me so irreparable an injury. — 
Which of us shall die first, is only known to the Great Disposer 
of events; but were I sure that James Boswell would write my 
life, I do not know whether I would not anticipate the measure by 
taking his. [Here he made three or four strides across the room, 
and reiu7'7ied to his chair with violent emotion] 

P. P. I am afraid that he means to do you the favour. 

Johnsoii. He dares not — he would make a scarecrow of me. 
1 give him liberty to fire his blunderbuss in his own face, but not 
to murder me. Sir, I heed not his aurof £<}><». — Boswell write my 
life! why the fellow possesses not abilities for writing the life of 
an ephemeron. 



No. v.— BOZZY AND PIOZZI; OR THE BRITISH 
BIOGRAPHERS, 

A PAIR OF TOWN ECLOGUES. 
BY PETER PINDAR, ESft. 



Arcades ambo, 

Et cantare pares, et respondere, parati ! 

Virgil. 



THE ARGUMENT. 

[Mr. Boswell and Madame Piozzi, the hero and heroine of our 
Eclogues, are supposed to have in contemplation the Life of 
Johnson; and, to prove their biographical abilities, appeal to 
Sir John Hawkins for his decision on their respective merits, 
by quotations from their printed anecdotes of the Doctor. Sir 
John hears them with uncommon patience, and determines very 
properly on the pretensions of the contending parties.] 

Part I. 

When Johnson sought (as Shakspeare says) that bourn. 
From whence, alas! no travellers return ; 
In humbler English, when the Doctor died, 
Apollo whimpered, and the Muses cried ; 



JEUX D ESPRIT PETER PINDAR. 485 

Parnassus moped for days, in business slack, 

And, like a hearse, the hill was hung with black; 

Minerva, sighing for her favourite son. 

Pronounced, with lengthened face, the world undone ; 

Her owl loo, hooted in so loud a style, 

That people might have heard the bird a mile ; 

Jove wiped his eyes so red, and told his wife 

He ne'er made Johnson's equal in his life; 

And that 'twould be long time first, if ever, 

His art could form a fellow half so clever; 

Venus, of all the little Doves the dam. 

With all the Graces, sobbed for brother Sam ; 

Such were the heavenly bowlings for his death, 

As if Dame Nature had resigned her breath. 

Nor less sonorous was the grief, I ween, 

Amidst the natives of our earthly scene: 

From beggars to the great who hold the helm. 

One Johnso-mania raged through all the realm. 

Who (cried the world) can match his prose or rhyme? 
O'er wits of modern days he towers sublime. 
An oak, wide spreading o'er the shrubs below, 
That round his roots, with puny foliage, blow; 
A pyramid, amidst some barren waste, 
That frowns o'er huts, the sport of every blast: 
A mighty Atlas, whose aspiring head 
O'er distant regions casts an awful shade. 
By kings and vagabonds his tales are told. 
And every sentence glows, a grain of gold! 
Blest who his philosophic phiz can take. 
Catch even his weaknesses— his noddle's shake, 
The lengthened lip of scorn, the forehead's scowl, 
The lowering eye's contempt, and bear-like growl. 
In vain the critics vent their toothless rage ; 
Mere sprats, that venture war with whales to wage. 
Unmoved he stands, and feels their force no more 
Than some huge rock amidst the watery roar, 
That calmly bears the tumults of the deep, 
And howling tempests, that as well might sleep. 

Strong, 'midst the Rambler's cronies, was the rage 
To fill, with Sam's bon mots and tales, the page; 
Mere flies, that buzzed around his setting ray, 
And bore a splendour on their wings away. 
Thus round his orb the pigmy planets run, 
And catch their little lustre from the sun. 

At length rushed forth two candidates for fame, 
A Scotsman one, and one a London dame : 
That, by th' emphatic Johnson, christened Bozzy; 
This, by the bishop's license. Dame Piozzi; 



486 -. JOHNSONIANA. 

Whose widow'd name, by topers loved, was Thrale, 
Bright in the annals of election ale. 
Each seized, with ardour wild, the gray goose quill; 
Each set to work the intellectual mill. 

Forth rushed to light their books — but who should say 
Which bore the palm of anecdote away? 
This to decide the rival wits agreed, 
Before Sir John their tales and jokes to read, 
And let the knight's opinion in the strife 
Declare the properest pen to write Sam's life. 
Sir John, renowned for musical palavers — 
The prince, the king, the emperor of quavers! 
Sharp in solfeggi, as the sharpest needle, 
Great in the noble art of tweedle-tweedle; 
Whose volume, though it here and there offends, 
Boasts German merit — makes by bulk amends. 

Like schoolboys, lo! before a two-armed chair, 
That held the knight wise judging, stood the pair; 
Or like two ponies on the sporting ground. 
Prepared to gallop when the drum should sound ; 
The couple ranged — for victory both as keen 
As for a tottering bishopric a dean, 
Or patriot Burke for giving glorious bastings 
To that intolerable fellow Hastings. 
Thus with their songs contended Virgil's swains. 
And made the valleys vocal with their strains. 
Before some grey-beard swain, whose judgment ripe 
Gave goats for prizes to the prettiest pipe. 

" Alternately, in anecdotes, go on ; 
Btit first begin you, madam," cried Sir John. 
The thankful dame, low curt'sied to the chair, 
And thus, for victory panting, read the Fair. 

MADAME PIOZZI. (*) 

Sam Johnson was of Michael Johnson born, 
Whose shop of books did Lichfield town adorn: 
Wrong-headed, stubborn as a haltered ram; 
In short, the model of our Hero Sam ; 
Inclined to madness, too — for when his shop 
Fell down, for want of cash to buy a prop, 
For fear the thieves should steal the vanished store. 
He duly went each night and locked the door. 

(♦) [" Michael Johnson, the father of Samuel, was a bookseller 
of Lichfield; a very pious and worthy man, but wrong-headed, 
positive, and afflicted with melancholy. When his shop had 
fallen half down, for want of money to repair it, he locked the 
door every night, though anybody might walk in at the back 
part." — Anecdotes.] 



JEUX d'eSPRIT PETER PINDAR. 487 

BOZZY. (*) 

Whilst Johnson was in Edinburgh, my wife, 
To please his palate, studied for her life ; 
With every rarity she filled her house. 
And gave the Doctor, for his dinner, grouse. 

MADAME PIOZZI. (+) 

Dear Doctor Johnson was in size an ox. 
And from his uncle Andrew learned to box; 
A man to wrestlers and to bruisers dear, 
Who kept the ring in Smithfield a whole year. 

EOZZY. (t) 

At supper, rose a dialogue on witches. 
When Crosbie said there could not be such bitches; 
And that 'twas blasphemy to think such hags 
Could stir up storms, and, on their broomstick nags, 
Gallop along the air with wondrous pace. 
And boldly fly in God Almighty's face. 
But Johnson answered him, " There might be witches — 
Naught proved the non-existence of the bitches." 

MADAME PIOZZi: (§) 

When Thrale, as nimble as a boy at school, 
Jumped, though fatigued with hunting, o'er a stool; 
The Doctor, proud the same grand feat to do. 
His powers exerted, and jumped over too. 
And though he might a broken back bewail, 
He scorned to be eclipsed by Mr. Thrale. 



At Ulinish, our friend, to pass the time. 
Regaled us with his knowledges sublime : 
Showed that all sorts of learning filled his nob; 
And that in butchery he could bear a bob. 

(♦) ["My wife took care that our great guest should not be defi- 
cient. We gave him for dinner our Scotch muir-fowl, or grouse.") 

(t) [" Mr. Johnson was conversant in boxing, which science 
he had learned from his uncle Andrew, who kept the ring in 
Smithfield a whole year."] 

(t) [" At supper witchcraft was introduced. Mr. Crosbie said, 
he thought it blasphemy to suppose evil spirits counteracting the 
Deity, and raising storms to destroy his creatures: Johnson 
answered, your arguments will not overturn the belief of witch- 
craft."] 

(§) ["Because he saw Mr. Thrale one day leap over a stool, 
to show that he was not tired after a chace of fifty miles or more, 
he jumped over it too."] 



488 JOHNSONIANA. 

He sagely told us of the different feat 

Employed to kill the animals we eat. 

" An ox," says he, " in country and in town, 

Is by the butchers constantly knocked down; 

As for that lesser animal, a calf. 

The knock is really not so strong by half, 

The beast is only stunned ; but as for goats, 

And sheep, and lambs— the butchers cut their throats. 

Those fellows only want to keep them quiet. 

Not choosing that the brutes should breed a riot." (*) 

MADAME PIOZZI. (f) 

When Johnson was a child and swallowed pap, 
'Twas in his mother's old maid Catharine's lap: 
There, whilst he sat, he took in wondrous learning; 
For much his bowels were for knowledge yearning; 
There heard the story which we Britons brag on, 
The story of St. George and eke the Dragon. 

Bozzr. (t) 

When Foote his leg by some misfortune broke. 
Says I to Johnson, all by way of joke, 
" Sam, sir, in Paragraph, will soon be clever, 
And take off Peter better now than ever." 
On which says Johnson, without hesitation, 
" George will rejoice at Foote's depeditation." 
On which, says I — a penetrating elf — 
" Doctor, I'm sure you coined that word yourself." 
On which he laughed, and said, I had divined it; 
For bond fide he had really coined it. 
" And yet of all the words I've coined," says he, 
" My Dictionary, sir, contains but three." 



( *) [" His variety of information is surprising. He showed 
that he knew something of butchery. ' Different animals,' said 
he, 'are killed differently. An ox is knocked down, and a calf 
stunned; but a sheep has its throat cut. The butchers have no 
view to the ease of the animal, but only to make them quiet, for 
their own safety and convenience.'"] 

(t) [" Dr. Johnson first learned to read of his mother and her 
old maid Catharine, in whose lap he well remembered sitting 
while she explained to him' the story of St. George and the 
Dragon."] 

(t) [" When Foote broke his leg, I observed that it would make 
him fitter for taking off George Faulkner as Peter Paragraph, 
poor George having a wooden leg. Dr. Johnson said, ' George 
will rejoice at the depeditation of Foote!' and when I challenged 
that word, laughed, and owned he had made it; and added that 
he had not made above three or four in his Dictionary,"] 



JEUX d'eSPRIT PETER PINDAR. 489 



MADAME PIOZZI. 

The Doctor said, in literary matters, 
A Frenchman goes not deep — he only smatters ; 
Then asked, what could be hoped for from the dogs- 
Fellows thai lived eternally on frogs. (*) 

BOZZY. (t) 

In grave procession to St. Leonard's College, 
Well stutfed with every sort of useful knowledge, 
We stalely walked, as soon as supper ended: 
The landlord and the waiter both attended: 
The landlord, skilled a piece of grease to handle, 
Before us marched, and held a tallow candle: 
A lantern (some famed Scotsman its creator). 
With equal grace was carried by the waiter: 
Next morning, from our beds, we took a leap; 
And found ourselves much better for our sleep. 

MADAME PIOZZI. (t) 

In Lincolnshire, a lady showed our friend 
A grotto, that she wished him to commend: 
Q-uoth she, " How cool in summer, this abode!" 
"Yes, madam," answered Johnson, "for a toad." 

BOZZY. (§) 

Between old Scalpa's rugged isle and Rasay's, 
The wind was vastly boisterous in our faces: 
'Twas glorious Johnson's figure to set sight on — 
High in the boat, he looked a noble Triton! 
But lo! to damp our pleasure fate concurs ; 
For Joe, the blockhead, lost his master's spurs. 



(*) ["What would you expect, dear sir, said he, from fellows 
that eat frogs?"] 

(+) [" We had a dreary drive to St. Andrew's. We found a 
good supper at Glass's Inn, and Dr. Johnson revived agreeably. 
After supper, we made a procession lo St. Leonard's College, the 
landlord walking before us with a candle, and the waiter with a 
lantern. We rose next morning much refreshed."] 

(t) [" The Lincolnshire lady, who showed our friend a grotto 
she had been making, asked him, ' Would it not be a cool habita- 
tion in summer!" ' I think it would, madam,' answered Johnson, 
' for a toad.' "] 

(§) [" We sailed along the coast of Scalpa, a rugged island. 
The wind made the sea lash considerably upon us. Dr. Johnson 
sat high on the stern, like a magnificent Triton. In the confusion, 
the Doctor's spurs, of which Joseph had charge, were carried over- 
board and lost. He was angry, and observed that there was 
something wild in letting a pair of spurs be carried into the sea."] 



490 JOHNSONIANA. 

This, for the Rambler's temper, was a rubber, 
Who wondered Joseph could be such a lubber. 

MADAME PIOZZI. (*) 

I asked him, if he knocked Tom Osborne down, 
As such a tale was current through the town — 
Says I, " Do tell me, Doctor, what befell." 
" Why, dearest lady, there is naught to tell : 
I pondered on the properest mode to treat him — 
The dog was impudent, and so I beat him !" 

BOZZY. (t) 

Lo! when we landed on the Isle of Mull, 
The megrims got into the Doctor's skull: 
With such bad humours he began to fill, 
I thought he would not go to Icolmkill. 
But lo! those megrims (wonderful to utter!) 
Were banished all by tea and bread and butter! 

MADAME PIOZZI. (t) 

The doctor had a cat, and christened Hodge, 
That at his house in Fleet Street used to lodge — 
This Hodge grew old, and sick, and used to wish 
That all his dinners were composed of fish. 
To please poor Hodge, the Doctor, all so kind. 
Went out, and bought him oysters to his mind. 
This every day he did — nor asked black Frank, 
Who deemed himself of much too high a rank, 
With vulgar fish-fags lo be forced to chat, 
And purchase oysters for a mangy cat. 



For God's sake stay each anecdotic scrap; 
Let me draw breath, and take a trifling nap; 
With one half hour's refreshing slumber blessed, 
And Heaven's assistance, I may hear the rest. 



(*) [" I asked him if he had knocked down Osborne the book- 
seller, as such a story was current. ' Dearest lady,' said he, ' the 
dog was impertinent, and so T beat him,' " &c.] 

(+) ["When we landed in Mull the Doctor was out of humour. 
I was afraid he would not go to Icolmkill ; but a dish of tea and 
some good bread and butter did him service, and his bad humour 
went off'."l 

(t) f" The Doctor had a cat, which he called Hodge, that kept 
always in his room at Fleet Street; and when the creature was 
grown sick and old, and could eat nothing but ovsters, he always 
went out himself to buv Hodge's dinner, that Frank the black's 
delicacy might not be hurt at seeing himself employed for the 
convenience of a cat.'] 



JEUX d'eSPRIT PETER PINDAR. 491 

Aside.]— What have I done, inform me, gracious Lord, 
That thus my ears with nonsense should be boredl 
Oh! if I do not in the trial die. 
The devil and all his brimstone I defy, 
No punishment in other worlds I fear; 
My crimes will all be expiated here. 
Tiie knight, thus finishing his speech so fair. 
Sleep pulled hira gently backwards in his chair ; 
Oped wide the mouth that oft on jailbirds swore, 
Then raised his nasal organ to a roar. 
That actually surpassed, in tone and grace, 
The humble ditties of his favourite bass. 

Part II. 

Now from his sleep the knight, affrighted, sprung, 
While on his ear the words of Johnson rung; 
For, lo! in dreams, the surly Rambler rose. 
And, wildly staring, seemed a man of woes. 
" Wake, Hawkins," growled the Doctor, with a frown, 
" And knock that fellow and that woman down — 
Bid them with Johnson's life proceed no further — 
Enough already they have dealt in murther! 
Say, to their tales that little truth belongs — ■ 
If fame they mean me, bid them hold their tongues. 

"In vain at glory gudgeon Boswell snaps — 
His mind's a paper-kite, composed of scraps ; 
Just o'er the tops of chimneys formed to fly. 
Not with a wing sublime to mount the sky. 
Say to the dog, his head's a downright drum. 
Unequal to the history of Tom Thumb. 

" For that Piozzi's wife, Sir John, exhort her, 
To draw her immortality from porter ; 
Give up her anecdotical inditing, 
And study housewifery instead of writing. 
I know no business women have with learning; 
I scorn, I hate, the mole eyed, half-discerning: 
Their wit but serves a husband's heart to rack. 
And make eternal horsewhips for his back. 

" Tell Peter Pindar, should you chance to meet him, 
I like his genius — should be glad to greet him. 
Yet let him know, crowned heads are sacred things, 
And bid him reverence more the best of kings; 
Still on his Pesasns continue jogging, 
And give that Boswell's back another flogging." 

Such was the dream that waked the sleepy knight. 
And oped again his eyes upon the light — 
Who, mindless of old Johnson and his frown. 
And stern commands to knock the couple down, 



492 JOHNSONIANA. 

Resolved to keep the peace ; and, in a tone 
Not much unlike a mastiif o'er a bone, 
He grumbled that, enabled by the nap. 
He now could meet more biographic scrap. 
Then nodding with a magistratic air. 
To further anecdote he called the fair. 

MADAME PIOZZI. (*) 

Dear Doctor Johnson loved a leg of pork, 
And hearty on it would his grinders work: 
He liked to eat it so much over-done, 
That one might shake the flesh from off the bone. 
A veal pie too, with sugar crammed and plums. 
Was wondrous grateful to the Doctor's gums. 

B0ZZY.(+) 

One Thursday morn did Doctor Johnson wake, • 

And call out, " Lanky! Lanky!" by mistake ; 
But recollecting, " Bozzyl Bozzy!" cried — 
For in contractions Johnson took a pride ! 

MADAME PIOZZI. 

Whene'er our friend would read in bed by night, 
Poor Mr. Thrale and I were in a fright ; 
For blinking on his book, too near the flame, 
Lo! to the fore-top of his wig it came I 
Burnt all the hairs away, both great and small, 
Down to the very net-work, named the caul, (t) 

BOZZY. (§) 

At Corrachatachin's, in hoggism sunk, 
I got with punch, alas! confounded drunk. 

(*) [" A leg of pork, boiled till it dropped from the bone, or a 
veal pie with plums and sugar, were his favourite dainties."] 

(t) [" On Thursday morning, when Dr. Johnson awaked, he 
called ' Lanky!' having, I suppose, been thinking of Langton, but 
corrected himself, and cried, ' Bozzy!' He has a way of contract- 
ing Iheiiames of his friends."] 

it) [" He would read in bed by night. In general his wigs 
were very shabby, and the foreparts were burned away by the 
near approach of the candle which his short-sightedness rendered 
necessary."] 

(§) [" A fourth bowl of punch was made. It was near Ave when 
I got to bed. I awaked at noon with a severe headache. I was 
much vexed that I had been guilty of such a riot, and afraid of a 
reproof from Dr. Johnson. ' Sir,' said I, ' they kept me up!' He 
answered, ' No, you kept them up, you drunken dog.' Taking 
up Mrs. M'Kinnon's prayer-book, 1 opened it at the twentieth 
Sunday after Trinity, in the epistle for which I read, ' And be not 
drunk with wine, wherein there is excess.' "] 



JEUX d'eSPRIT PETER PINDAR, 493 

Much was I vexed that I could not be quiet, 

But like a stupid blockhead breed a riot. 

I scarcely knew how 'twas I reeled to bed. 

Next raorn I waked M'ith dreadful pains of head: 

And terrors too, that of my peace did rob me — 

For much I feared the moralist would mob me. 

But as I lay along a heavy log, 

The Doctor, entering, called me drunken dog. 

Then up rose I, with apostolic air, 

And read in Dame M'Kinnon's book of prayer ; 

In hopes, for such a sin, to be forgiven — 

And make, if possible, my peace with Heaven. 

'Twas strange, that in the volume of divinity, 

I oped the Twentieth Sunday after Trinity, 

And read these words: — " Pray, be not drunk with wine; 

Since drunkenness doth make a man a swine." 

MADAME PIOZZI.(*) 

One day, with spirits low and sorrows filled, 
I told him I had got a cousin killed : 

" My dear," quoth he, " for heaven's sake hold your canting: 
Were all your cousins killed, they'd not be wanting: 
Though Death on each of them should set his mark — 
Though every one were spitted like a lark — 
Roasted, and given that dog there for a meal ; 
The loss of them the world would never feel." 

BOZZY. (t) 

At Anoch, at M'Queen's we went to bed ; 
A coloured handkerchief wrapped Johnson's head: 
He said, " God bless us both — good night!" and then 
I, like a parish clerk, pronounced, Amen ! 
My good companion soon with sleep was seized — 
But I by vermin vile was sadly teased : 
Methought a spider, with terrific claws, 
Was striding from the wainscot to my jaws: 
But slumber soon did every sense entrap; 
And so I sunk into the sweetest nap. 

(*) [" When I one day lamented the loss of a first cousin killed, 
' Prithee, my dear,' said he, 'have done with canting: how would 
the world be worse for it, if all your relations were at once spitted 
like larks, and roasted for Presto's supper!"] 

(t) ["Dr. Johnson slept with a coloured handkerchief tied 
round his head. He said, ' God bless us both, good night.' I 
pronounced Amen! He fell asleep immediately. I fancied my- 
self bit by innumerable vermin, and that a spider was travelling 
towards my mouth. At last I fell into insensibility."] 



494 JOHNSONIANA. 

MADAME PIOZZI. (*) 

Travelling in Wales, at dinner-time we got on 
Where, at Lleweny, lives Sir Robert Cotton. 
At table, our great Moralist lo please — 
Says I " Dear Doctor, a'n't these charming peasi 
duoth he (to contradict and run his rig), 
" Madam, they possibly might please a pig." 

BOZZY. (t) 

Of thatching well the Doctor knew the art, 
And with his thrashing wisdom made us start: 
Described the greatest secrets of the mint — 
And made folks fancy that he had been in't. 
Of hops and malt, 'tis wondrous what he knew ; 
And well as any brewer he could brew. 

MADAME PIOZZI. (t) 

In ghosts the Doctor strongly did believe, 
And pinn'd his faith on many a liar's sleeve : 
He said to Doctor Lawrence, " Sure I am, 
I heard my poor dear mother call out, 'Sam!' " 

BOZZY. (§) 

When young, ('twas rather silly, I allow,) 
Much pleased was I to imitate a cow. 
One time, at Drury-lane, with Doctor Blair, 
My imitations made the playhouse stare! 
So very charming was 1 in my roar, 
That both the galleries clapped, and cried, " Encore!" 



(*) [" When we went into Wales, and spent some time at 
Sir Robert Cotton's at Lleweny, one day at dinner I meant to 
please Mr. Johnson particularly with a dish of very young peas. 
' Are not they charmingl' said I to him. ' Perhaps,' said he, ' they 
would be so — to a pig.' "J 

(t) [" He talked of thrashing and thatching, and gave us an 
account of the whole process of tanning. His variety of informa- 
tion is surprising."] 

(*) [" He one day said to me, ' I can recollect telling Dr. Law- 
rence many years ago, that a long time after my poor mother's 
death, I heard her voice call Sam!' "J 

(§) [" A great many years ago, when Dr. Blair and I were sit- 
ting together in the pit of the Drury-lane playhouse, in a wild 
freak of youthful extravagance, I entertained the audience pro- 
digiously by imitating the lowings of a cow. The universal cry 
of the galleries was, ' Encore the cow!' In the pride of my heart, 
I attempted imitations of some other animals, but with very in- 
ferior effect. My revered friend, anxious for my fame, with an 
air of the utmost gravity and earnestness, addressed me thus, 
' My dear sir, I would confine myself to the cow.' "J 



JEUX d'eSPRIT PETER PINDAR. 495 

Blest by the general plaudit and the laugh — 

I tried to be a jackass and a calf: 

But who, alas! in all things can be greatl 

In short, I met a terrible defeat: 

So vile 1 brayed and bellowed, I was hissed — 

Yet all who knew me wondered that I missed. 

Blair whispered me, "You've lost your credit now; 

Stick, Boswell, for the future, to your cow." 

MADAME PIOZZI. (*) 

On Mr. Thrale's old Hunter Johnson rode — 
Who, with prodigious pride, the beast bestrode ; 
And as on Brighton Downs he dashed away, 
Much was he pleased to hear a sportsman say, 
That, at a chase, he was as tight a hand. 
As e'er an ill-bred lubber in the land. 

BOZZY. (t) 

We sailed about Loch Lomond in a boat, 
And made a landing on each isle of note ; 
But why the beauties of a scene describe, 
So oft narrated by the travelling tribe ! 
One morning, Johnson on the Isle of Mull, 
Was of his politics excessive full : 
Quoth he, " That Pulteney was a rogue, 'lis plain — 
Besides, the fellow was a Whig in grain." 
Then to his principles he gave a banging. 
And swore no Whig was ever worth a hanging. 
" 'Tis wonderful," says he, " and makes one stare. 
To think the livery chose John Wilkes lord mayor: 
A dog, of whom the world could nurse no hopes — 
Prompt to debauch their girls, and rob their shops." 

MADAME PIOZZI. 

Sir, I believe that anecdote a lie ; 
But grant that Johnson said it — by the by, 

(*) [" He rode on Mr. Thrale's old hunter with a good firm- 
ness. He was proud to be amongst the sportsmen ; and I think no 
praise ever went so close to his heart, as when Mr. Hamilton 
called out one day, ' Why, Johnson rides as well as the most illite- 
rate fellow in England.' "J 

(+) [" We sailed about upon Loch Lomond, and landed on some 
of the islands which are interspersed. But it is unnecessary to 
describe," &c. — " One morning at Mull, the subject of politics 
was introduced. Johnson. ' Pulteney was as paltry a fellow as 
could be : he was a Whig who pretended to be honest ; and you 
know it is ridiculous for a Whig to pretend to be honest.' He 
said, ' It is wonderful to think that all the force of government 
was required to prevent Wilkes from being chosen Lord Mayor 
of London, though the livery-men knew he would rob their shops 
and debauch their daughters.' "] 



496 JOHNSONIANA. 

As Wilkes unhappily your friendship shared, 
The dirty anecdote might well be spared. 



Madam, I stick to truth as much as you, 
And, damme, if the story be not true. 
What you have said of Johnson and the larks, 
As much the Rambler for a savage marks. 
'Twas scandalous, even Candour must allow. 
To give the history of the horse and cow, 

MADAME PIOZZI. 

Sam Johnson's thrashing knowledge and his thatching 
May be your own inimitable hatching — 
Pray, of his wisdom can't you tell more news? 
Could not he make a shirt, and cobble shoes? 
Knit stockings, or ingenious take up stitches — 
Draw teeth, dress wigs, or make a pair of breechesi 
You prate too of his knowledge of the mint, 
As if the Rambler really had been in't — 
Who knows but you will tell us (truth forsaking) 
That each bad shilling is of Johnson's making: 
His each vile sixpence that the world hath cheated — 
And his the art that every guinea sweated? 
About his brewing knowledge you will prate too, 
Who scarcely knew a hop from a potatoe. 
And though of beer he joyed in hearty swigs, 
I'd pit against his taste my husband's pigs. 



How could your folly tell, so void of truth, 
That miserable story of the youth. 
Who, in your book, of Dr. Johnson begs 
Most seriously to know if cats laid eggs? 

MADAME PIOZZI. 

Who told of Mrs. Montague the lie — 
So palpable a falsehood'?— Bozzy, fie! 



Who, maddening with an anecdotic itch, 
Declared that Johnson called his mother bitch? 

MADAME PIOZZI. 

Who from M'Donald's rage to save his snout, 
Cut twenty lines of defamation out? 



Who would have said a word about Sam's wig ; 
Or told the story of the peas and pig? 



JEUX d'eSPRIT PETER PINDAR. 497 

Who would have told a tale so verv flat, 

Of Frank the Black, and Hodge the mangy cat? 

MADAME PIOZZI. 

Ecod! you're grown at once confounded tender — 
Of Doctor Johnson'is fame a fierce defender. 
I'm sure you've mention'd many a pretty story. 
Not much redounding to the Doctor's glory. 
Now for a saint, upon us you would palm him — 
First murder the poor man, and then embalm him! 



For shame! for shame! for heaven's sake, pray be quiet- 
Not Billingsgate exhibits such a riot. 
Behold! for scandal you have made a feast, 
And turned your idol, Johnson, to a beast: 
' I'is plain the tales of ghosts are arrant lies. 
Or instantaneously would Johnson's rise; 
Make you both eat your paragraphs so evil, 
And for your treatment to him play the devil. 
Zoniids! madam, mind the duiies of a wife, 
And dream no more of Doctor Johnson's life: 
A happy knowledge in a pie or pudding 
Will more delight your friends than all your studying; 
One cut from venison to the heart can speak 
Stronger than ten quotations from the Greek; 
One tat surlom possesses more sublime 
Than all the airy castles built by rhyme. 
One nipperkin of stingo with a toast 
Beats all the streams the Muses' fount can boast. 
Enough those anecdotes your powers have shown, 
Sam's life, dear ma'am, will only damn your own. 

For thee, James Boswell, may the hand of fate 
Arrest thy goose-quill, and confine thy prate; 
Thy egotism the world disgusted hears — 
Then load with vanities no more our ears. 
Like some known puppy yelping all night long, 
That tires the very echoes wuli his tongue. 
Yet, should it lie beyond the powers of fate 
To stop thy pen, and still thy darling prate; 
O be in solitude to live thy luck — 
A chattering magpie on the Isle of Muck. 

Thus spoke the Judge; then leaping from the chair, 
He left, in consternation lost, the pair; 
Black Frank he sought on anecdote to cram; 
And vomit first a lile of surly Sam. 
Shocked at the little manners of the knight, 
The rivals marvelling marked his sudden flight. 
Then to their pens and paper rushed the twain 
To kill the mangled Rambler o'er again. 
32 



498 JOHNSONIANA. 



No. VI.— INSCRIPTION ON A CARICATURE OP JOHN- 
SON AND MADAME PIOZZI, BY SAYERS.(*) 

Madam (my debt to nature paid), 

I thought the grave with hallow'd shade 

Would now protect my name : 
Yet there in vain I seek repose, 
My friends each little fault disclose. 

And murder Johnson's fame. 

First, Boswell, with of&cious care, 
Show'd me as men would show a bear, 

And call'd himself my friend ; 
Sir John with nonsense strew'd my hearse, 
And Courtenay pester'd me with verse : 

You torture without end. 

When Streatham spread its plenteous board, 
I open'd Learning's valued hoard, 

And as 1 feasted prosed. 
Good things I said, good things I eat, 
I gave you knowledge for your meat, 

And thought th' account was closed. 

If obligations still I owed, 

You sold each item to the crowd, 

I suffer'd by the tale : 
For God's sake, Madam, let me rest. 
No longer vex your quondam guest — 

I'll pay you for your ale. 

(♦) [From the European Magazine.] 



499 



Part XXXIV. 

BOSWELL. 



No. I.— BRIEF MEMOIR OF BOSWELL, BY ED- 
MOND MALONE, ESQ. (*) 

James Boswell, Esq., eldest son of Alexander Boswell, 
Lord Auchinleck, one of the judges in the supreme courts 
of session and justiciary in Scotland, was born at Edin- 
burgh, October 29, 1740, and received his first rudiments 
of education in that city. He afterwards studied Civil 
Law in the universities of Edinburgh and Glasgow. 
During his residence in these cities, he acquired, by the 
society of the English gentlemen who were students in 
the English colleges, that remarkable predilection for their 
manners, which neither the force of education, nor the 
dulcedo of his natale solum, could ever eradicate. But 
his most intimate acquaintance at this period was the Rev. 
Mr. Temple, a worthy, learned, and pious divine, whose 
well-written character of Gray was inserted in Johnson's 
Life of that poet. Mr. Boswell imbibed early the ambition 
of distinguishing himself by his literary talents, and had 
the good fortune to obtain the patronage of the late Lord 
Somerville. This nobleman treated him with the most 
flattering kindness; and Mr. Boswell ever remembered 
with gratitude the friendship he so long enjoyed with this 
worthy peer. Having always entertained an exalted idea 

(♦) [From Nichols's Literary Anecdotes of the Eighteenth Cen- 
, vol. ii. p. 400.] 



500 JOHNSONIANA. 

of the felicity of London, in the year 1760 he visited that 
capital; in the manners and amusements of which he 
found so much that was congenial to his own taste and 
feelings, that it became ever after his favourite residence, 
whither he always returned from his estate in Scotland, 
and from his various rambles in various parts of Europe, 
with increasing eagerness and delight; and we find him, 
nearly twenty years afterwards, condemning Scotland as 
too narrow a sphere, and wishing to make his chief resi- 
dence in London, which he calls the great scene of 
ambition, instruction, and, comparatively, making his 
heaven upon earth. He was, doubtless, confirmed in this 
attachment to the metropolis by the strong predilection 
entertained towards it by his friend Dr. Johnson, whose 
sentiments on this subject Mr. Boswell details in various 
parts of his Life of that great man; and which are corro- 
borated by every one, in pursuit of literary and intellectual 
attainments, who has enjoyed but a taste of the rich feast 
which that city spreads before him. 

The politeness, aff'ability, and insinuating urbanity of 
manners, which distinguished Mr. Boswell, introduced 
him into the company of many eminent and learned men, 
whose acquaintance and friendship he cultivated with the 
greatest assiduity. In truth, the esteem and approbation 
of learned men seems to have been one chief object of his 
literary ambition; and we find him so successful in pur- 
suing his end, that he enumerated some of the greatest 
men in Scotland among his friends even before he left it 
for the. first time. Notwithstanding Mr. Boswell by his 
education was intended for the bar, yet he was himself 
earnestly bent at this period upon obtaining a commission 
in the Guards, and solicited Lord Auchinleck's acqui- 
escence; but returned, however, by his desire, into Scot- 
land, where he received a regular course of instruction in 
the law, and passed his trials as a civilian at Edinburgh. 
Still, however, ambitious of displaying himself as one of 
" the manly hearts who guard the fair," he revisited Lon- 
don a second time in 1762; and various occurrences de- 
laying the purchase of a commission, he was at length 
persuaded by Lord Auchinleck to relinquish his pursuit, 
and become an advocate at the Scotch bar. In compliance, 
therefore, with his father's wishes, he consented to go to 



BOSWELL. 501 

Utrecht the ensuing winter, to hear the lectures of an ex- 
cellent civilian in that university; after which he had per- 
mission to make his grand tour of Europe. 

In 1762 Mr, Boswell published the little poem, entitled 
*' The (ylub at Newmarket, a Tale;" and the next year 
may be considered the most important epocha in his life, 
as he had the singular felicity to be introduced to Dr. 
Johnson. This event, so auspicious for Mr. Boswell, and 
so fortunate for the literary world, happened on May 16, 
1763. Having afterwards continued one winter at Utrecht, 
during which time he visited several parts of the Nether- 
lands, he commenced his projected travels. Passing from 
Utrecht into Germany, he pursued his route through Swit- 
zerland to Geneva; whence he crossed the Alps into Italy: 
having visited on his journey Voltaire at Ferney, and 
Rousseau in the wilds of Neufchatel. Mr. Boswell con- 
tinued some time in Italy, where he met and associated 
with Lord Mountstuart, to whom he afterwards dedicated 
his Theses Jtiridicx. 

Having visited the most remarkable cities in Italy, Mr. 
Boswell sailed to Corsica, travelled over every part of that 
island, and obtained the friendship of the illustrious Pas- 
qual de Paoli, in whose palace he resided during his stay 
at Corsica. He afterwards went to Paris, whence he 
returned to Scotland in 1766, and soon after became an 
advocate at the Scotch bar. The celebrated Douglas cause 
was at that time a subject of general discussion. Mr. 
Boswell published the " Essence of the Douglas Cause;" 
a pamphlet which contributed to procure Mr. Douglas the 
popularity which he at that time possessed. 

In 1768, Mr. Boswell obliged the world by his "Account 
of Corsica, with Memoirs of General Paoli." Of this 
printed porformance Dr. Johnson thus expresses himself: 
"Your Journal is curious and delightful. I know not whe- 
ther I could name any narrative by which curiosity is better 
excited or better gratified." This book was received with 
extraordinary approbation, and has been translated into the 
German, Dutch, Italian, and French languages. In the 
following winter, the theatre-royal at Edinburgh, hitherto 
restrained by party spirit, was opened. On this occasion 
Mr. Boswell was solicited by David Ross, Esq. to write a 
prologue. The effect of this prologue upon the audience 



503 JOHNSONIANA. 

was highly flattering to the author, and beneficial to the 
manager, as it secured to the latter, by the annihilation of 
the opposition which had been till that time too success- 
fully exerted against him, the uninterrupted possession of 
his patent, which he enjoyed till his death, which happen- 
ed in September, 1790. Mr. Boswell attended his funeral 
as chief mourner, and paid the last honours to a man with 
whom he had spent many a pleasant hour. — In 1769, was 
celebrated at Stratford-on-Avon, the Jubilee in honour of 
Shakspeare. Mr. Boswell, an enthusiastic admirer of the 
writings of our immortal bard, and ever ready to partake 
of " the feast of reason and the flow of soul," repaired 
thither, and appeared at the masquerade as an armed Cor- 
sican chief; a character he was eminently qualified to sup- 
port. 

This year Mr. Boswell was married to Miss Margaret 
Montgomery, a lady who, to the advantages of a polite 
education, united admirable good sense and a brilliant under- 
standing. She was the daughter of David Montgomery, 
Esq., related to the illustrious family of Eglintoune, and 
representative of the ancient peerage of Lyle. The death 
of this amiable woman is recorded in the Gentleman's 
Magazine for June, 1790; and Mr. Boswell honoured 
her memory with an affectionate tribute. She left him two 
sons and three daughters; who, to use Mr. Boswell's own 
words, "if they inherit her good qualities, will have no 
reason to complain of their lot." Dos magna parentum 
virtus. — In 1782, Lord Auchinleck died. — In 1783, Mr. 
Boswell published his celebrated " Letter to the People 
of Scotland;" which is thus praised by Johnson in a 
letter -to the author: " I am very much of your opinion 
* * * * ; your paper contains very considerable knowledge 
of history and the constitution, very properly produced 
and applied." Mr. Pitt, to whom Mr. Boswell communi- 
cated the pamphlet, honoured it with his approbation. 
This first letter was followed by a second, in which Mr. 
Boswell displayed his usual energy and political abilities. 
In 1785, Mr. Boswell published " A Journal of a Tour to 
the Hebrides" with Dr. Johnson; which met a similar 
success to his entertaining account of Corsica. This year 
Mr. Boswell removed to London, and was soon after called 
to the English bar. 



BOSWELL. 503 

But Mr. Boswell's professional business was interrupted 
by preparing his most celebrated work, " The Life of 
Samuel Johnson, LL.D." This was published in 1791, 
and was received by the world with most extraordinary 
avidity. It is a faithful history of Johnson's life, and ex- 
hibits a most interesting picture of the character of that 
illustrious moralist, delineated with a masterly hand. The 
preparation of a second edition of this work was almost 
the last literary performance of Mr. Boswell; though he 
was at the same time preparing a general answer to a letter 
from Dr. Samuel Parr, in Gent. Mag. vol. Ixv. p. 179.; in 
which he proposed briefly to notice the attacks of his more 
puny antagonists. He had also a design, which was in 
some forwardness, of publishing a quarto volume, to be 
embellished with fine plates, on the subject of the contro- 
versy occasioned by the Beggar's Opera; and it is to be 
regretted, that the public were not gratified with a perusal 
of what so good a judge of human nature would say on so 
curious a subject. With this particular view he had paid 
frequent visits to the then truly humane " Govenor of New- 
gate," as he ordinarily styled Mr. Kirby. His death, un- 
expected by his friends, was a subject of universal regret; 
and his remains were carried to Auchinleck; and the follow- 
ing inscription is engraved on his coffin-plate: — 

James Boswell, Esa., 

died 19th May, 1795, 

aged 55 years. 



No. H.— EXTRACTS FROM BOSWELL'S LET- 
TERS TO MR. MALONE. 

\^Mr. BosweWs letters to Mr. Malone, written while the 
first edition of his Life of Johnson was passing through 
the press, afford so curious a view of his situation and 
state of mind at that period, that the Editor has gladly 
availed himself of Mr. UpcotVs permission to make 
some extracts from the MSS. in that gentleman'' s col- 
lection.'] 

" Dec. 4, 1790. Let me begin with myself. On the 



504 JOHNSONIANA. 

day after your departure, that most friendly fellow Courte- 
nay (begging the pardon of an M.P. for so free an epithet) 
called on me, and took my word and honour that, till the 
1st of March, my allowance of wine per diem should not 
exceed four good glasses at dinner, and a pint after it; and 
this I have kept, though I have dined with Jack Wilkes; at 
the London Tavern, after the launch of an Indiaman; with 
dear Edwards; Dilly; at home with Courtenay; Dr. Barrow; 
at the mess of the Coldstream; at the Club; at Warren 
Hastings's; at Hawkins the Cornish member's; and at 
home with a colonel of the guards, &c. This regulation I 
assure you is of essential advantage in many respects. The 
Magnum Opus advances. I have revised p. 216. The 
additions which I have received are a Spanish quotation 
from Mr. Cambridge; an account of Johnson at Warley 
Camp from Mr. Langton; and Johnson's letters to Mr. 
Hastings — three in all — one of them long and admirable; 
but what sets the diamonds in pure gold of Ophir is a letter 
from Mr. Hastings to me, illustrating tliem and their writer. 
I had this day the honour of a long visit from the late Go- 
vernor-general of India. There is to be no more impeach- 
ment. But you will see his character nobly vindicated. 
Depend upon this.(*) 

" And now for my friend. The appearance of Malone's 
Shakspeare on the 29th November was not attended with 
any external noise; but I suppose no publication seized 
more speedily and surely on the attention of those for whose 
critical taste it was chiefly intended. At the Club on Tues- 
day, where I met Sir Joshua, Dr. Warren, Lord Ossory, 
Lord Palmerston, Windham, and Burke in the chair, — 
Burke was so full of his anti-French revolution rage, and 
poured it out so copiously, that we had almost nothing 
else. He, however, found time to praise the clearness and 
accuracy of your dramatic history; and Windham found 
fault with you for not taking the profits of so laborious a 
work. Sir Joshua is pleased, though he would gladly have 
seen more disquisition — you understand me! 

(*) [The impeachment and trial of Warren Hastings, which 
lasted nine years, terminated in April, 1795, in his entire acquit- 
tal. From this period he passed the remainder of his life in retire- 
ment, although honoured with a seat in the Privy Council; and 
died August 22, 1818, in his seventy-iilth year.] 



BOSWELL. 505 

" Dec. 7. I dined last Saturday at Sir Joshua's with Mr. 
Burke, his lady, son, and niece, Lord Palmerston, Wind- 
ham, Dr. Lavvrence, Dr. Blagden, Dr. Burney, Sir Abra- 
ham Hume, Sir William Scott. I sat next to young Burke 
at dinner, wlio said to me, that you had paid his father a 
very fine compliment. I mentioned Johnson, to sound if 
there was any objection. He made none. In the evening 
Burke told me he had read your Henry VI., with all its 
accompaniments, and it was ' exceedingly well done.' He 
left us for some time; I suppose on some of his cursed po- 
litics; but he returned — I at him again, and heard from his 
lips what, believe me, I delighted to hear, and took care to 
write down soon after: ' I have read his History of the 
Stage, which is a very capital piece of criticism and anti- 
agrarianism. I shall now read all Shakspeare through, in a 
very different manner from what I have yet done, when I 
have got such a commentator.' Will not this do for you, 
my friend? Burke was admirable company all that day. 
He never once, I think, mentioned the French revolution, 
and was easy with me, as in days of old.'''' 

" Dec. 16. I was sadly mortified at the Club on Tues- 
day, where I was in the chair, and on opening the box 
found three balls against General Burgoyne. Present, 
besides moi, Lord Ossory, Sir Joshua Reynolds, Sir 
Joseph Banks, Dr. Fordyce, Dr. Burney, young Burke, 
Courtenay, Sfeevcns. One of the balls, 1 do believe, was 
put into the no side by Fordyce by mistake. You may 
guess who put in the other two. The Bishop of Carlisle 
and Dr. Blagden are put up. I doubt if the latter will be 
admitted, till Burgoyne gets in first. My work has met 
with a delay for a little while — not a whole day, however — 
by an unaccountable neglect in not having paper enough in 
readiness. I have now before me p. 256. My utmost 
wish is to come forth on Shrove Tuesday (8th March). 
' Wits are game cocks,' &c. Langton is in town, and 
dines with me to-morrow quietly, and revises his Collec- 
tanea.^'' 

"Jan. 18, 1791. I have been so disturbed by sad 
money-matters, that my mind has been quite fretful: 500/. 
which I borrowed and lent to a first cousin, an unlucky 
captain of an Indiaman, were due on the 15th to a mer- 
chant in the city. I could not possibly raise that sum, and 



506 JOHNSONIANA. 

was apprehensive of being hardly used. He, however, 
indulged me with an allowance to make partial payments; 
150/. in two months, 150/. in eight months, and the re- 
mainder, with the interests, in eighteen months. How I 
am to manage I am at a loss, and I know you cannot help 
me. So this, upon my honour, is no hint. I am really 
tempted to accept of the 1000/. for my Life of Johnson. 
Yet it would go to my heart to sell it at a price which I 
think much too low. Let me struggle and hope. I cannot 
be out on Shrove Tuesday, as I flattered myself. P. 376 
of Vol. H. is ordered for press, and I expect another proof 
to-night. But I have yet near 200 pages of copy, besides 
letters, and the death, which is not yet written. My 
second volume will, I see, be forty or fifty pages more than 
my first. Your absence is a woful want in all respects. 
You will, I dare say, perceive a diff'erence in the part 
which is revised only by myself, and in which many inser- 
tions Avill appear. My spirits are at present bad: but I 
will mention all lean recollect." 

"Jan. 29, 1791. You will find this a most desponding 
and disagreeable letter, for which I ask your pardon. But 
your vigour of mind and warmth of heart make your friend- 
ship of such consequence, that it is drawn upon like a bank. 
I have, for some weeks, had the most woful return of 
melancholy, insomuch that I have not only had no relish 
of any thing, but a continual uneasiness, and all the pros- 
pect before me for the rest of life has seemed gloomy and 
hopeless. The state of my affairs is exceedingly embar- 
rassed. I mentioned to you that the 500/. which I bor- 
rowed several years ago, and lent to a first cousin, an 
unfortimate Lidia captain, must now be paid; 150/. on the 
18th of March, 150/. on the 18th of October, and 257/. 
15*. 6(/. on the 18th of July, 1792. This debt presses 
upon my mind, and it is uncertain if I shall ever get a 
shilling of it again. The clear money on which I can 
reckon out of my estate is scarcely 900/. a year. What 
can I do? My grave brother urges me to quit London, 
and live at my seat in the country; where he thinks that I 
might be able to save so as gradually to relieve myself. 
But, alas! I should be absolutely miserable. Li the mean- 
time, such are my projects and sanguine expectations, that 
you know I purchased an estate which was given long ago 



BOSWELL. 507 

to a younger son of our family, and came to be sold last 
autumn, and paid for it 2500/. — 1500/. of which I borrow 
upon itself by a mortorage. But the remaining 1000/. I 
cannot conceive a possibility of raising, but by the mode of 
annuity; which is, I believe, a very heavy disadvantage. I 
own it was imprudent in me to make a clear purchase at a 
time when I was sadly straitened; but if I had missed the 
opportunity, it never again would have occurred, and I 
should have been vexed to see an ancient appanage, a piece 
of, as it were, the flesh and blood of the family, in the hands 
of a stranger. And now that I have made the purchase, I 
should feel myself quite despicable should I give it up. 

" In this situation, then, my dear sir, would it not be 
wise in me to accept of 1000 guineas for my Life of John- 
son, supposing the person who made the offer should now 
stand to it, which I fear may not be the case; for two vo- 
lumes may be considered as a disadvantageous circumstance? 
Could 1 indeed raise 1000/. upon the credit of the work, I 
should incline to game, as Sir Joshua says; because it may 
produce double the money, though Steevens kindly tells 
me that I have over-printed, and that the curiosity about 
Johnson is notv only in our own circle. Pray decide for 
me; and if, as I suppose, you are for my taking the offer, 
inform me with whom I am to treat. In my present state 
of spirits, I am all timidity. Your absence has been a se- 
vere stroke to me. I am at present quite at a loss what to 
do. Last week they gave me six sheets. I have now 
before me in proof p. 456: yet I have above 100 pages of 
my copy remaining, besides his death, which is yet to be 
written, and many insertions, were there room, as also 
seven-and-thirty letters, exclusive of twenty to Dr. Broc- 
klesby, most of which will furnish only extracts, I am 
advised to extract several of those to others, and leave out 
some; for my first volume makes only 516 pages, and to 
have 600 in the second will seem awkward, besides in- 
creasing the expense considerably. The counsellor, indeed, 
has devised an ingenious way to thicken the first volume, 
hy prefixing the index. I have now desired to have but 
one compositor. Indeed, I go sluggishly and comfortlessly 
about my work. As I pass your door I cast many a longing 
look. 

" I am to cancel a leaf of the first volume, having found 



508 JOHNSONIANA. 

that though Sir Joshua certainly assured me he had no 
objection to my mentioning that Johnson wrote a dedica- 
tion for him, he now thinks otherwise. In that leaf occurs 
the mention of Johnson having written to Dr. Leland, 
thanking the University of Dublin for their diploma. 
What shall I say as to it? I have also room to state shortly 
the anecdote of the college cook, which I beg you may get 
for me. I shall be very anxious till I hear from you. 

" Having harassed you with so much about myself, I 
have left no room for anything else. We had a numerous 
club on Tuesday: Fox in the chair, quoting Homer and 
Fielding, &c. to the astonishment of Jo. Warton; who, 
with liangton and Seward, ate a plain bit with me, in my 
new house, last Saturday. Sir Joshua has put up Dr. 
Laurence, who will be blackballed as sure as he exists. (*) 

" We dined on Wednesday at Sir Joshua's; thirteen 
without Miss P. Himself, Blagden, Batt, [Lawrence,] 
Erskine, Langton, Dr. Warton, Metcalfe, Dr. Lawrence, 
his brother, a clergyman. Sir Charles Bunbury, myself." 

"Feb. 10, 179L Yours of the 5th reached me yester- 
day. I instantly went to the Don, who purchased for you 
at the office of Hazard and Co. a half, stamped by govern- 
ment and warranted undrawn, of No. 43,152, in the English 
State Lottery. I have marked on the back of it " Edmund, 
Henrietta, and Catharine Malone;" and if Fortune will not 
favour those three united, I shall blame her. This half 
shall lie in my bureau with my one whole one, till you 
desire it to be placed elsewhere. The cost with registration 
is 8/. 129. 6i. A half is always proportionally dearer than 
a whole. I bought my ticket at Nicholson's the day before, 
and paid 16/. 8s. for it. I did not look at the number, but 
sealed it up. In the evening a handbill was circulated by 
Nicholson, that a ticket the day before sold at his office for 
16/. 8s. was drawn a prize of 5000/. The number was men- 
tioned in the handbill. I had resolved not to knoto what mine 
was till after the drawing of the lottery was finished, that I 
might not receive a siidchn shock of blank; but this un- 
expected circumstance, which elated me by calculating that 
mine must certainly be one of 100, or at most 200 sold by 

(*) [Dr. Laurence was blackballed, and did not become a mem- 
ber of the Club till December, 1802.J 



BOSWELL. 509 

Nicholson the day before, made me look at the two last 
figures of it; which, alas! were 48, whereas those of the 
fortunate one were 33. I have remanded my ticket to its 
seci'ecy. O! could I but get a few thousands, what a dif- 
ference would it make upon my state of mind, which is 
harassed by thinking of my debts. I am anxious to hear 
your determination as to my Magnum Opus. I am very 
unwilling to part with the property of it, and certainly 
would not, if I could but get credit for lOOOZ. for three or 
four years. Could you not assist me in that way, on the 
security of the book, and of an assignment to one half of 
my rents, 700/., whicli, upon my honour, are always due, 
and would be forthcoming in case of my decease? I will 
not sell, till I have your answer as to this. 

" On Tuesday we had a Club of eleven — Lords Lucan 
(in the chair), Ossory, Macartney, Eliot, Bishop of Clon- 
fert, young Burke, myself, Courtenay, Windham, Sir 
Joshua, and Charles Fox, who takes to us exceedingly, 
and asked to have dinner a little later; so it was to be at 
half-past five. Burke had made great interest for his drum- 
major, and, would you believe it? had not Courtenay and I 
been there, he would have been chosen. I am strangely 
ill, and doubt if even you could dispel the demoniac influ- 
ence. I have now before me p. 488, in print: the 923 
pages of the copy only are exhausted, and there remain 80, 
besides the death; as to which I shall be concise, though 
solemn. Pray how shall I wind up? Shall I give the cha- 
racter from my Tour, somewhat enlarged?" 

"London, Feb. 25, 1791. I have not seen vSir Joshua 
I think for a fortnight. I have been worse than you can 
possibly imagine, or I hope ever shall be able to imao-ine; 
which no man can do without experiencing the malady. It 
has been for some time painful to me to be in company. I, 
however, am a little better, and to meet Sir Joshua to-day 
at dinner at Mr. Dance's, and shall tell him that he is to 
have good Irish claret. 

" I am in a distressing perplexity how to decide as to 
the property of my book. You must know, that I am 
certainty informed that a certain person who delights in 
mischief has been depreciating it, so that I fear the sale of 
it may be very dubious. Two quartos and tivo guineas 
sound in an alarming manner. I believe in my present 



510 JOHNSONIANA. 

frame, I should accept even of 500/,; for I suspect that 
were I now to talk to Robmson, I should find him not dis- 
posed to give 1000/. Did he absolutely offer it, or did he 
only express himself so as that you concluded he would 
give it? The pressing circumstance is, that I must lay down 
1000/. by the 1st of May, on account of the purchase of 
land, which my old family enthusiasm urged me to make. 
You, I doubt not, have full confidence in my honesty. 
May I then ask you if you could venture to join with me 
in a bond for that sum, as then I would take my chance, 
and, as Sir Joshua says, game with my book? Upon my 
honour, your telling me that you cannot comply with what 
I propose will not in the least surprise me, or make any 
manner of diff'erence as to my opinion of your friendship. 
I mean to ask Sir Joshua if he will join; for indeed I should 
be vexed to sell my Magnum Opus for a great deal less 
than its intrinsic value. I meant to publish on Shrove 
Tuesday; but if I can get out within the month of March 
I shall be satisfied. I have now, I think, ybwr or Jive sheets 
to print, which will make my second volume about 575 
pages. But I shall have more cancels. That nervous 
mortal W. G. H.(*) is not satisfied with my report of some 
particulars which I wrote down from his own mouth, and 
is so much agitated, that Courtenay has persuaded me to 
allow a new edition of them by H. himself to be made at 
H.'s expense. Besides, it has occurred to me, that when 
I mention " a literary fraud,'''' by Rolt the historian, in 
going to Dublin, and publishing Akenside's Pleasures of the 
Imagination, with his own name, I may not be able to 
authenticate it, as Johnson is dead, and he may have rela- 
tions who may take it up as an offence, perhaps a libel. 
Courtenay suggests, that you may perhaps get intelligence 
whether it was true. The Bishop of Dromore can proba- 
bly tell, as he knows a great deal about Rolt. In case of 
doubt, should I not cancel the leaf, and either omit the 
curious anecdote or give it as a story which Johnson laugh- 
ingly told as having circulated?" 

" March 8. I have before me your volunteer letter of 
February 24th, and one of 5th current, which, if you have 
dated it right, has come with wonderful expedition. You 

(♦) [Single-speech Hamilton.] 



BOSWELL. 511 

may be perfectly sure that I have not the smallest fault to 
find with your disinclination to come again under any pe- 
cuniary engagements for others, after having suffered so 
much. Dilly proposes that he and Baldwin should each 
advance 200/. on the credit of my book; and if they do so, 
I shall manage well enough, for I now find that I can have 
600/. in Scotland on the credit of my rents; and thus I shall 
get the 1000/. paid in May. 

" You would observe some stupid lines on Mr. Burke in 
the ' Oracle' by Mr. Boswell! I instandy wrote to Mr. 
Burke, expressing my indignation at such impertinence, 
and had next morning a most obliging answer. Sir William 
Scott told me I could have no legal redress. So I went 
civilly to Bell, and he promised to mention handsomely 
that James Boswell, Esq. was not the author of the lines. 
The note, however, on the subject was a second imperti- 
nence. But I can do nothing. I wish Fox, in his bill upon 
libels, would make a heavy penalty the consequence of 
forging any person's name to any composition, which, in 
reality, such a trick amounts to. 

" In the night between the last of February and first of 
this month, I had a sudden relief from the inexplicable dis- 
order, which occasionally clouds my mind and makes me 
miserable, and it is amazing how well I have been since. 
Your friendly admonition as to excess in wine has been 
often too applicable; but upon this late occasion I erred on 
the other side. However, as I am now free from my re- 
striction to Courtenay, I shall be much upon my guard; 
for, to tell the truth, I did go too deep the day before yes- 
terday; having dined with Michael Angelo Taylor, and 
then supped at the London Tavern with the Stewards of 
the Humane Society, and continued till I know not what 
hour in the morning. John Nichols was joyous to a pitch 
of bacchanalian vivacity. I am to dine with him next 
Monday; an excellent city party, Alderman Curtis, Deputy 
Birch, &c. &;c. I rated him gently on his saying so little 
of your Shakspeare.(*) He is ready to receive more ample 
notice. You may depend on your having whatever reviews 
that mention you sent directly. Have I told you that Mur- 
phy has written ' An Essay on the Life and Writings of 

(*) [In the Gentleman's Magazine.] 



512 JOHNSONIANA. 

Dr. Johnson,' to be prefixed to the new edition of his 
works? He wrote it in a month, and has received 200/. for 
it. I am quite resolved now to keep the property of my 
Magnum Opus; and I flatter myself I shall not repent it. 

" My title, as we settled it, is ' The Life of Samuel John- 
son, LL.D., comprehending an account of his studies and 
various Avorks, in chronological order, his conversations 
with many eminent persons, a series of his letters to cele- 
brated men, and several original pieces of his composition; 
the whole exhibiting a view of literature and literary men 
in Great Britain, for near half a century, during which he 
flourished.' It will be very kind if you will suggest what 
yet occurs. I hoped to have published to-day; but it will 
be about a month yet before I launch." 

" March 12. Being the depositary of your chance in 
the lottery, I am under the disagreeable necessity of com- 
municating the bad news that it has been drawn a blank. 
I am very sorry, both on your account and that of your 
sisters, and my own; for had your share of good fortune 
been 3166'. 13s. 4c/., I should have hoped for a loan to 
accommodate me. As it is, I shall, as I wrote to you, be 
enabled to weather my difliculties for some time: but I am 
still in great anxiety about the sale of my book, I find so 
many people shake their heads at the tivo quartos and two 
guineas. Courtenay is clear that I should sound Robinson, 
and accept of a thousand guineas, if he will give that sum. 
Meantime, tlie title-page must be made as good as may be. 
It appears to me that mentioning his studies, works, con- 
versations, and letters, is not suflicient; and I would suggest 
comprehending an account, in chronological order, of his 
studies, Avorks, friendships, acquaintance, and other parti- 
culars; his conversations with eminent men; a series of his 
letters to various persons; also several original pieces of his 
composition never before published. The whole, &c. You 
will, probably, be able to assist me in expressing my idea, 
and arranging the parts. In the advertisement I intend to 
mention the letter to Lord Chesterfield, and perhaps the in- 
terview with the King, and the names of the correspondents 
in alphabetical order. How shoidd chronological order 
stand in the order of the members of my title? I had at 
first ' celebrated correspondents,'' which I don't like. How 
would it do to say ' his conversations and epistolary cor- 



BOSWELL. 513 

respondence with eminent (or celebrated) persons?' Shall 
it be ' different works,^ and ' various particulars?' In short, 
it is difficult to decide. 

" Courtenay was with me this morning. What a mys- 
tery is his going on at all! Yet he looks well, talks Avell, 
dresses Avell, keeps his mare — in short is in all respects 
like a parliament man. Do you know that my bad spirits 
are returned upon me to a certain degree; and such is the 
sickly fondness for change of place, and imagination of 
relief, that I sometimes think you are happier by being in 
Dublin, than one is in this great metropolis, where hardly 
any man cares for another. I am persuaded I should relish 
your Irish dinners very much. I have at last got chambers 
in the Temple, in the very staircase where .Johnson lived; 
and when my Magnum Opus is fairly launched, there 
shall I make a trial." 



No. III.— BOSWELL IN CORSICA. 

[7%e ^'Journal of a Tour in Corsica in 1765," the work 
by which Bosvjell iv as first made known to the ivorld of 
letters, is now but seldom met with. The high opinion 
tvhich Johnson expressed of it has already been recorded 
(Life, vol. ii, p. 72): " Your Journal,'''' says he, ^^is 
in a very high degree curious and delightful; I know 
not whether I could name any narrative by ivhich curi- 
osity is better excited or better gratified;'''' and when 
we recollect, that at the time he wrote it Boswell ivas 
only in the twenty fourth year of his age, it certainly 
appears very creditable to his literary attainments. 
JVe have, therefore, selected some of the most interesting 
and characteristic passages of this neglected perform- 
ance — concluding ivith those which bear a direct refer- 
ence to the author's early intercourse ivith Johnson.^ 

BosweWs Object in visiting Corsica. 

Having resolved to pass some years abroad, for my in- 
struction and entertainment, I conceived a design of visiting 
the island of Corsica. I wished for something more than 
33 



514 JOHNSONIANA. 

just the common course of what is called the tour of Eu- 
rope; and Corsica occurred to me as a place which nobody 
else had seen, and where I should find what was to be 
seen nowhere else, — a people actually fighting for liberty, 
and forming themselves from a poor, inconsiderable, op- 
pressed nation, into a flourishing and independent state. 

Barbary Corsairs. 

The only danger I saw in going to Corsica was, that I 
might be taken by some of the Barbary corsairs, and have 
a trial of slavery among the Turks at Algiers. I spoke of 
it to Commodore Harrison, who commanded the British 
squadron in the Mediterranean, and was then lying with 
his ship, the Centurion, in the Bay of Leghorn. He 
assured me, that if the Turks did take me, they should not 
keep me long; but in order to prevent it, he was so good 
as to grant me a very ample and particular passport; and 
as it could be of no use if I did not meet the corsairs, he 
said very pleasantly when he gave it me, " I hope, sir, it 
will be of no use to you." 

Jlrrival in Corsica. 

We landed safely in the harbour of Centuri. I was 
directed to the house of Signor Antonio Antonetti at Mor- 
siglia, about a mile up the country. The prospect of the 
mountains covered with vines and olives was extremely 
agreeable; and the odour of the myrtle and other aromatic 
shrubs and flowers that grew all round me was very re- 
freshing. As I walked along, I often saw Corsican pea- 
sants come suddenly out from the covert. They were all 
armed; even the man who carried my baggage was armed, 
and had I been timorous might have alarmed me. But he 
and I were very good company to each other. As it grew 
dusky, I repeated to myself these lines from a fine passage 
in Ariosto: — 

"E pur per selveoscure e calli obliqui 
Insieme van, senza sospetto aversi." 

" Together through dark woods and winding ways 
They walk, nor on their hearts suspicion preys." 

Signor Antonetti received me with unaffected cordiality, 
making an apology for my frugal entertainment, but assuring 



BOSWELL. 515 

me of a hearty welcome. His true kindly hospitality was 
also shown in taking care of my servant, an honest Swiss, 
who loved to eat and drink well. I had formed a strange 
notion that I should see every thing in Corsica totally dif- 
ferent from what I had seen in any other country. I was 
therefore much surprised to find Signor Antonetti's house 
quite an Italian one, with very good furniture, prints, and 
copies of some of the famous pictures. In particular, I was 
struck to find here a small copy from Raphael, of St. Mi- 
chael and the Dragon. There was no necessity for its 
being well done. To see the thing at all was what sur- 
prised me. 

Jl Corsican Sermon. 

The next day, being Sunday, I accompanied Signor 
Antonetti and his family to hear mass in the parish church, 
a very pretty little building, about half a quarter of a mile 
off". The priest was to preach to us, at which I was much 
pleased, being very curious to hear a Corsican sermon. 
He did very well. His text was in the Psalms: " De- 
scendunt ad infernum viventes, — They go down alive into 
the pit." After endeavouring to move our passions with 
a description of the horrors of hell, he told us, " Saint 
Catharine of Siena wished to be laid on the mouth of this 
dreadful pit, that she might stop it up, so as no more un- 
happy souls should fall into it. I confess, my brethren, I 
have not the zeal of holy Saint Catharine. But I do what 
I can; I warn you how to avoid it." He then gave us 
some good practical advices and concluded. 

A Slight Mistake. 

At Pino I was cordially entertained at Signor Tomasi's. 
Throughout all Corsica, except in garrison towns, there is 
hardly an inn. Before I was accustomed to the Corsican 
hospitality, I sometimes forgot myself, and imagining I 
was in a public house, called for what I wanted, with the 
tone which one uses in calling to the waiters at a tavern. 
I did so at Pino, asking for a variety of things at once; 
when Signora Tomasi perceiving my mistake, looked in 
my face and smiled, saying with much calmness and good- 
nature, " Una cosa dopo un' altra, Signore, — One thing 
after another, sir." 



516 JOHNSONIANA. 

Reflections in a Convent. 

For some time I had very curious travelling', mostly on 
foot, and attended by a couple of stout women, who carried 
my baggage upon their heads. Every time that I prepared 
to set out from a village, I could not help laughing, to see 
the good people eager to have my equipage in order, and 
roaring out, " Le donne, le donne! — The women, the wo- 
men!" I had full leisure and the best opportunities to 
observe every thing. I was lodged sometimes in private 
houses, sometimes in convents, being always well recom- 
mended from place to place! The first convent in which 
I lay was at Canari. It appeared a little odd at first. But 
I soon learned to repair to my dormitory as naturally as if 
I had been a friar for seven years. These convents were 
small decent buildings, suited to the sober ideas of their 
pious inhabitants. The religious, who devoutly endeavour 
to " walk with God," are often treated with raillery by 
those whom pleasure or business prevents from thinking of 
future and more exalted objects. A little experience of the 
serenity and peace of mind to be found in convents would 
be of use to temper the fire of men of the world. 

Monastic Inscription. 

At Corte I was very politely received, and was con- 
ducted to the Franciscan convent, where I got the apart- 
ment of Paoli, who was then some days' journey beyond 
the mountains, holding a court of syndicato at a village 
called Sollacaro. These fathers have no library worth 
mentioning; but their convent is large and well built. I 
looked about with great attention, to see if I could find any 
inscription: but the only one I found was upon a certain 
useful edifice, — 

" Sine necessitate hue non inirate, 
duia necessaria sumus." 

A studied, rhyming, Latin conceit, marked upon such a 
place, was truly ludicrous. 

Corsican Criminals. 

I went up to the castle of Corte. The commandant 
very civilly showed me every part of it. As I wished to 



BOSWELL. 517 

see all things in Corsica, I desired to see even the unhappy 
criminals. There were then three in the castle, — a man 
for the murder of his wife: a married lady who had hired 
one of her servants to strangle a woman of whom she was 
jealous; and the servant who had actually perpetrated this 
barbarous action. They were brought out from their cells, 
that I might talk with them. The murderer of his wife 
had a stupid, hardened appearance, and told me he did it 
at the instigation of the devil. The servant was a poor 
despicable wretch. He had at first accused his mistress, 
but Avas afterwards prevailed with to deny his accusation, 
upon which he was put to the torture, by having lighted 
matches held between his fingers. This made him return 
to what he had formerly said, so as to be a strong evidence 
against his mistress. His hands were so miserably scorched, 
that he was a piteous object. I asked him why he had 
committed such a crime; he said, " Perche era senza spirito. 
Because I was without understanding." The lady seemed 
of a bold and resolute spirit. She spoke to me with great 
firmness, and denied her guilt, saying with a contemptuous 
smile, as she pointed to her servant, " They can force that 
creature to say what they please." 

Hangman of Corsica. 

The hangman of Corsica was a great curiosity. Being 
held in the utmost detestation, he durst not live like another 
inhabitant of the island. He was obliged to take refuge in 
the castle; and there he was kept in a little corner turret, 
where he had just room for a miserable bed, and a little bit 
of fire to dress such victuals for himself as were sufficient 
to keep him alive, for nobody would have any intercourse 
with him, but all turned their backs upon him. I went up 
and looked at him; and a more dirty rueful spectacle I never 
beheld. He seemed sensible of his situation, and held 
down his head like an abhorred outcast. It was a long 
time before they could get a hangman in Corsica, so that 
the punishment of the gallows was hardly known, all their 
criminals being shot. At last this creature whom I saw, 
who is a Sicilian, came with a message to Paoli. The 
General, who has a wonderful talent for physiognomy, on 
seeing the man, said immediately to some of the people 
about him, " Ecco il boia, — Behold our hangman." He 



518 JOHNSONIAN A. 

gave orders to ask the man if he would accept of the office; 
and the answer was, " My grandfather was a hangman; 
my father was a hangman; I have been a hangman myself, 
and am willing to continue so." He was therefore im- 
mediately put into office, and the ignominious death dis- 
pensed by his hands hath had more effect than twenty 
executions by fire-arms. 

Great Seal of Corsica. 

When I had seen everything about Corte, I prepared 
for my journey over the mountains, that I might be with 
Paoli. The night before I set out, I recollected that I had 
forgotten to get a passport. After supper therefore the 
Prior walked with me to the house of the Great Chancellor, 
who ordered the passport to be made ovU immediately; and 
while his secretary was writing it, entertained me by reading 
to me some of the minutes of the general consulta. When 
the passport was finished, and ready to have the seal put to 
it, I was much pleased with a beautiful simple incident. 
The Chancellor desired a little boy who was playing in the 
room by us to run to his mother, and bring the great seal of 
the kingdom. I thought myself sitting in the house of a 
Cincinnatus. 

Next morning I set out in very good order, having ex- 
cellent mules, and active clever Corsican guides. The 
worthy fathers of the convent, who treated me in the 
kindest manner while I was their guest, would also give 
me some provisions for my journey; so they put up a 
gourd of their best wine, and some delicious pomegranates. 
My Corsican guides appeared so hearty, that I often got 
down and walked along with them, doing just what I saw 
them do. When we grew hungry, we threw stones among 
the thick branches of the chestnut trees which overshaded 
us, and in that manner we brought down a shower of 
chestnuts, with which we filled our pockets, and went on 
eating them with great relish; and when this made us 
thirsty, we lay down by the side of the first brook, put our 
mouths to the stream, and drank sufficiently. It was just 
being for a little while one of the " prisca gens mortalium, 
the primitive race of men," who ran about in the woods 
eating acorns and drinking water. 



BOSWELL. 519' 

Belief in the Pope. 

While I stopped to refresh my mules at a little village, 
the inhabitants came crowding about me as an ambassador 
going to their general. When they were informed of my 
country, a strong black fellow among them said, " Inglese! 
sono barbari; non credono in Dio grande, — English! they 
are barbarians; they don't believe in the great God." I 
told him, " Excuse me, sir, we do believe in God, and in 
Jesus Christ too." "Um," said he, "e nel Papa? And 
in the Pope?" "No." " E perche? And why?" This 
was a puzzling question in these circumstances; for there 
was a great audience to the controversy. I thought I 
would try a method of my own, and very gravely replied, 
" Perche siamo troppo lontani, — Because we are too far 
off." A very new argument against the universal infalli- 
bility of the Pope. It took, however; for my opponent 
mused awhile, and then said, " Troppo lontano! La Sicilia 
e tanto lontana che I'Inghilterra; e in Sicilia si credono nel 
Papa. — Too far off ! Why Sicily is as far off as England. 
Yet in Sicily they believe in the Pope." "O," said I, 
" noi siamo dieei volte piii lontani che la Sicilia! — We are 
ten times farther off than Sicily." "Aha!" said he; and 
seemed quite satisfied. In this manner I got off very well. 
I question much whether any of the learned reasonings of 
our protestant divines would have had so good an effect. 

BoswelVs Harangue at Bastelica. 

My journey over the mountains w^as very entertaining. 
I passed some immense ridges and vast woods. I was in 
great health and spirits, and fully able to enter into the 
ideas of the brave rude men whom I found in all quarters. 
At Bastelica, where there is a stately spirited race of peo- 
ple, I had a large company to attend me in the convent. I 
liked to see their natural frankness and ease; for why 
should men be afraid of their own species? They came 
in making an easy bow, placed themselves round the room 
where I was sitting, rested themselves on their muskets, 
and immediately entered into conversation with me. They 
talked very feelingly of the miseries that their country had 
endured, and complained that they were still but in a state 
of poverty. I happened at that time to have an unusual 



520 JOHNSONIANA. 

flow of spirits; and as one who finds himself among^st 
utter strangers in a distant country has no timidity, I 
harangued the men of Bastehca with great fluency. I ex- 
patiated on the bravery of the Corsicans, by which they 
had purchased Uberty, the most valuable of all possessions, 
and rendered themselves glorious over all Europe. Their 
poverty, I told them, might be remedied by a proper culti- 
vation of their island, and by engaging a little in commerce. 
But I bid them remember, that they were much happier in 
their present state than in a state of refinement and vice, 
and that therefore they should beware of luxury. What I 
said had the good fortune to touch them, and several of 
them repeated the same sentiments much better than I 
could do. 

First Intervieiv with Paoli. 

When I at last came within sight of SoUacaro, where 
Paoli was, I could not help being under considerable anx- 
iety. My ideas of him had been greatly heightened by the 
conversations I had held with all sorts of people in the 
island, they having represented him to me as something 
above humanity. I had the strongest desire to see so 
exalted a character; but I feared that I should be unable to 
give a proper account why I had presumed to trouble him 
with a visit, and that I should sink to nothing before him. 
I almost wished to go back without seeing him. These 
workings of sensibility employed my mind till I rode 
through the village and came up to the house where he was 
lodged. Leaving my servant with my guides, I passed 
through the guards, and was met by some of the General's 
people, who conducted me into an antechamber, where 
were several gentlemen in waiting. I was shown into 
Paoli's room. I found him alone, and was struck with his 
appearance. He asked me what were my commands for 
him. I presented him with a letter from Count Rivarola, 
and when he had read it I showed him my letter from 
Rousseau. He was polite, but very reserved. I had stood 
in the presence of many a prince, but I never had such a 
trial as in the presence of Paoli. For ten minutes we 
walked backwards and forwards through the room, hardly 
saying a word, while he looked at me, with a steadfast, 
keen, and penetrating eye, as if he searched my very soul! 



BOSWELL. 521 

This interview Avas for a while very severe upon me. I 
was much relieved when his reserve wore off, and he 
began to speak more. I then ventured to address him 
with this compliment to the Corsicans, "Sir, I am upon 
my travels, and have lately visited Rome. I am come 
from seeing the ruins of one brave and free people: I now 
see the rise of another.*' He received my compliment 
very graciously; but observed that the Corsicans had no 
chance of being, like the Romans, a great conquering 
nation, who should extend its empire over half the globe. 
Their situation, and the modern political systems, render- 
ed this impossible. But, said he, Corsica may be a very 
happy country. 

Some of the nobles who attended him came into the 
room, and presently we were told that dinner was served 
up. The General did me the honour to place me next him. 
He had a table of fifteen or sixteen covers, having always a 
good many of the principal men of the island with him. 
He had an Italian cook, who had been long in France: but 
he chose to have a few plain substantial dishes, avoiding 
every kind of luxury, and drinking no foreign wine. I 
felt myself under some constraint in such a circle of 
heroes. The General talked a great deal on history and 
on literature. I soon perceived that he was a fine classical 
scholar, that his mind was enriched with a variety of 
knowledge, and that his conversation at meals was instruc- 
tive and entertaining. Before dinner he conversed in 
French. He now spoke Italian, in which he is very elo- 
quent. We retired to another room to drink coffee. My 
timidity wore off. I no longer anxiously thought of my- 
self: my whole attention was employed in listening to the 
illustrious commander of a nation. 

Great Attentions paid to Bosivell. 

Paoli recommended me to the care of the Abbe Rostini, 
who had lived many years in France. Signor Colonna, 
the lord of the manor here, being from home, his house 
was assigned for me to live in. Every day I felt myself 
happier. Particular marks of attention were shown me as 
a subject of Great Britain, the report of which went over 
to Italy, and confirmed the conjectures that I was really an 
envoy. In the morning I had my chocolate served up upon 



522 JOHNSONIANA. 

a silver salver adorned with the arms of Corsica. I dined 
and supped constantly with the General. I was visited by 
all the nobility, and whenever I chose to make a little tour, 
I was attended by a party of guards. I begged of the Gene- 
ral not to treat me with so much ceremony; but he insisted 
upon it. One day when I rode out I was mounted on 
Paoli's own horse, with rich furniture of crimson velvet, 
with broad gold lace, and had my guards marching along 
with me. I allowed myself to indulge a momentary pride 
in this parade, as I was curious to experience what could 
really be the pleasure of state and distinction with which 
mankind are so strangely intoxicated. When I returned to 
the Continent after all this greatness, I used to joke with 
my acquaintance, and tell them that I could not bear to 
live with them, for they did not treat me with a proper 
respect. 

PaoWs English Library. 

I asked Paoli if he understood English. He imme- 
diately began and spoke it, which he did tolerably well. I 
was diverted with his English library. It consisted of 
some broken volumes of the Spectator and Tatler, Pope's 
Essay on Man, Gulliver's Travels, a history of France in 
old English, and Barclay's Apology for the Quakers. I 
promised to send him some English books, (*) 

BosivelVs Corsican Dress. 

The ambasciadore Inglese, the English ambassador, as 
the good peasants and soldiers used to call me, became a 
great favourite among them. I got a Corsican dress made, 
in which I walked about with an air of true satisfaction. 
The General did me the honour to present me with his own 
pistols, made in the island, all of Corsican wood and iron, 
and of excellent workmanship. I had every other accou- 

(*) I have sent him the works of Harrington, of Sidney, of 
Addison, of Trenchard, of Goidon, and of other writers in favour 
of liberty. I have also sent him some of our best books of mo- 
rality and entertainment, in particular the works of Mr. Samuel 
Johnson, with a complete set of the Spectator, Taller, and Guar- 
dian; and to the University of Corte I have sent a few of the 
Greek and Roman classics, of the beautiful editions of the Mes- 
sieurs Foulis at Glasarow. 



BOSWELL. 523 

tretnent. I even got one of the shells which had often 
sounded the alarm to liberty. I preserve them all with 
great care. 

BoswelVs German Flute, ^-c. 

The Corsican peasants and soldiers were quite free and 
easy with me. Numbers of them used to come and see 
me of a morning, and just go out and in as they pleased. 
I did everything in my power to make them fond of the 
British, and bid them hope for an alliance Avith us. They 
asked me a thousand questions about my country, all which 
I cheerfully answered as well as I could. One day they 
would needs hear me play upon my German flute. To 
have told my honest natural visitants, " Really, gentlemen, 
I play very ill," and put on such airs as we do in our 
genteel companies, would have been highly ridiculous. I 
therefore immediately complied with their request. I gave 
them one or two Italian airs, and then some of our beau- 
ful old Scots tunes, " Gilderoy," the " Lass of Patie's 
Mill," " Corn riggs are bonny." The pathetic simplicity 
and pastoral gaiety of the Scots music will always please 
those who have the genuine feelings of nature. The Cor- 
sicans were charmed with the specimens I gave them, 
though I may now say that they were very indifljerently 
performed. My good friends insisted also to have an Eng- 
lish song from me. I endeavoured to please them in this 
too, and was very lucky in that which occurred to me. I 
sung them — 

" Hearts of oak are our ships, 
Hearts of oak are our men." 

I translated it into Italian for them, and never did I see 
men so delighted with a song as the Corsicans were with 
Hearts of Oak. " Cuore di querco," cried they, " bravo 
Inglese." It was quite a joyous riot. I fancied myself 
to be a recruiting sea-officer. I fancied all my chorus of 
Corsicans aboard the British fleet. 

Independency of Corsica. 

Paoli talked very highly on preserving the independency 
of Corsica. " We may," said he, " have foreign powers 
for our friends; but they must be 'Amici fuori di casa, — 



524 JOHNSONIANA. 

Friends at arm's length.' We may make an alliance, but 
we will not submit ourselves to the dominion of the 
greatest nation in Europe. This people, who have done so 
much for liberty, would be hewn in pieces man by man, 
rather than allow Corsica to be sunk into the territories 
of another country. Some years ago, when a false rumour 
was spread that I had a design to yield up Corsica to the 
Emperor, a Corsican came to me, and addressed me in 
great agitation, — " What! shall the blood of so many 
heroes, who have sacrificed their lives for the freedom of 
Corsica, serve only to tinge the purple of a foreign prince!' " 
I mentioned to him the scheme of an alliance between Great 
Britain and Corsica. Paoli Avith politeness and dignity 
waved the subject, by saying, " The less assistance we 
have from allies, the greater our glory." He seemed hurt 
by our treatment of his country. He mentioned the severe 
proclamation at the last peace, in which the brave islanders 
were called the Rebels of Corsica. He said with a con- 
scious pride and proper feeling, — " Rebels! I did not 
expect that from Great Britain." He, however, showed 
his great respect for the British nation, and I could see he 
wished much to be in friendship with us. When I asked 
him what I could possibly do in return for all his goodness 
to me, he replied, " Solamente disingannate il suo corte. — 
Only undeceive your court. Tell them what you have 
seen here. They will be curious to ask you. A. man come 
from Corsica will be like a man come from the antipodes." 

BosiveWs Melancholy. 

This kind of conversation led me to tell Paoli how much 
I had suffered from anxious speculations. With a mind 
naturally inclined to melancholy, and a keen desire of in- 
quiry, I had intensely applied myself to metaphysical re- 
searches, and reasoned beyond my depth, on such subjects 
as it is not given to man to know. I told him I had ren- 
dered my mind a camera obscura, that in the very heat of 
youth I felt the " non est tanti," the "omnia vanitas" of 
one who has exhausted all the sweets of his being, and is 
weary with dull repetition. I told him that I had almost 
become for ever incapable of taking a part in active life. 
" All this," said Paoli, " is melancholy. I have also studied 
metaphysics. I know the arguments for fate and free-will, 



BOSWELL. 525 

for the materiality and immateriality of the soul, and even 
the subtile arguments for and against the existence of mat- 
ter. Ma lasciamo queste dispute ai oziosi. But let us 
leave these disputes to the idle. lo tengo sempre fermo un 
gran pensiero. I hold always firm one great object. I 
never feel a moment of despondency." The contemplation 
of such a character really existing was of more service to 
me than all I had been able to draw from books, from con- 
versation, or from the exertions of my own mind. I had 
often formed the idea of a man continually such as I could 
conceive in my best moments. But this idea appeared like 
the ideas we are taught in the schools to form of things 
which may exist, but do not; of seas of milk, and ships of 
amber. But I saw my highest idea realised in Paoli. It 
was impossible for me, speculate as I pleased, to have a 
little opinion of human nature in him. 

Dr. Johnson. 

I gave Paoli the character of my revered friend Mr. 
Samuel Johnson. I have often regretted that illustrious 
men, such as humanity produces a few times in the revo- 
lution of many ages, should not see each other; and when 
such arise in the same age, though at the distance of half 
the globe, I have been astonished how they could forbear 
to meet. " As steel sharpeneth steel, so doth a man the 
countenance of his friend," says the wise monarch. What 
an idea may we not form of an interview between such a 
scholar and philosopher as Mr. Johnson, and such a legis- 
lator and general as Paoli! 

I repeated to Paoli several of Mr. Johnson's sayings, 
so remarkable for strong sense and original humour. I 
now recollect these two. When I told Mr. Johnson that 
a certain author affected in conversation to maintain, that 
there was no distinction between virtue and vice, he said, 
" Why, sir, if the fellow does not think as he speaks, he 
is lying; and I see not what honour he can propose to 
himself from having the character of a liar. But if he does 
really think that there is no distinction between virtue and 
vice, why, sir, when he leaves our houses let us count our 
spoons." Of modern infidels and innovators, he said, 
" Sir, these are all vain men, and will gratify themselves 
at any expense. Truth will not afford sufficient food to 



526 JOHNSONIANA. 

their vanity; so they have betaken themselves to error. 
Truth, sir, is a cow which will yield such people no more 
milk, and so they are gone to milk the hull." 

I felt an elation of mind to see Paoli delighted with the 
sayings of Mr, Johnson, and to hear him translate them 
with Italian energy to the Corsican heroes. I repeated 
Mr. Johnson's sayings, as nearly as I could, in his own 
peculiar forcible language, for which prejudiced or little 
critics have taken upon them to find fault with him. He 
is above making any answer to them, but I have found a 
sufficient answer in a general remark in one of his excellent 
papers: — " Difference of thoughts will produce difference 
of language. He that thinks with more extent than another, 
will want words of larger meaning." 

Last Day with Paoli. 

The last day which I spent with Paoli appeared of ines- 
timable value. I thought him more than usually great and 
amiable when I was upon the eve of parting from him. 
The night before my departure a little incident happened 
which showed him in a most agreeable light. When the 
servants were bringing in the dessert after supper, one of 
them chanced to let fall a plate of walnuts. Instead of 
flying into a passion at what the man could not help, Paoli 
said, with a smile, " No matter." And turning to me, 
" It is a good sign for you, sir. Tempus est spargere 
nuces, — It is time to scatter walnuts. It is a matrimonial 
omen: you must go home to your own country, and marry 
some fine woman whom you really like. I shall rejoice 
to hear of it. This was a pretty allusion to the Roman 
ceremony at weddings, of scattering walnuts. So Virgil's 
Damon says, — 

" Mopse novas incide faces: tibi ducitur uxor. 
Sparge raarite nuces: libi deserit Hesperus Oetam." 

" Thy bride comes forth! begin the festal rites! 
The walnuts strew! prepare the nuptial lights! 
O envied husband, now thy bliss is nigh! 
Behold for thee bi ight Hesper mounts the sky!" 

When I again asked Paoli if it were possible for me in 
any way to show him my great respect and attachment, 
he replied, " Ricordatevi che io vi sia amico, e scrivetemi. 



BOSWELL. 527 

Remember that I am your friend, and write to me.'' I 
said I hoped that when he honoured me with a letter, he 
Avould write not only as a commander, but as a philosopher 
and a man of letters. He took me by the hand, and said, 
" As a friend." I took leave of him with regret and agita- 
tion, not without some hopes of seeing him again. Even 
having known intimately so exalted a character, my senti- 
ments of human nature were raised, while, by a sort of 
contagion, I felt an honest ardour to distinguish myself, and 
be useful, as far as my situation and abilities would allow; 
and I was, for the rest of my life, set free from a slavish 
timidity in the presence of great men — for where shall I 
find a man greater than Paoli? 

Return to Corte. 

When I set out from Sollacaro, I felt myself a good deal 
indisposed. The old house of Colonna. like the family of 
its master, was much decayed; so that both wind and rain 
found their way into my bed-chamber. From this I con- 
tracted a severe cold, which ended in a tertian ague. There 
was no help for it. I might well submit to some inconve- 
niences, where I had enjoyed so much happiness. I was 
accompanied a part of the road by a great swarthy priest, 
who had never been out of Corsica. He was a very Her- 
cules for strength and resolution. He and two other Cor- 
sicans took a castle garrisoned by no less than fifteen 
Genoese: indeed the Corsicans have such a contempt of 
their enemies, that I have heard them say, " Basterebbero 
le donne contra i Genovesi!" " Our women would be 
enough against the Genoese!" This priest was a blufl^, 
hearty, roaring fellow, troubled neither with knowledge 
nor care. He was ever and anon showing me how stoutly 
his nag could caper. He always rode some paces before 
me, and sat in an attitude half turned round, with his hand 
clapped upon the crupper. Then he would burst out with 
comical songs about the devil and the Genoese, and I don't 
know what all. In short, notwithstanding my feverishness, 
he kept me laughing whether I would or no. 

At Cauro I had a fine view of Ajaccio and its environs. 
My ague was some time of forming; so I had frequent in- 
tervals of ease, which I employed in observing whatever 
occurred. I was lodged at Cauro, in the house of Signor 



528 JOHNSONIANA. 

Peraldi of Ajaccio, who received me with great politeness. 
I found here another provincial magistracy. Before sup- 
per, Signor Peraldi and a young Abbe of Ajaccio enter- 
tained me with some airs on the violin. After they had 
shown me their taste in fine improved music, they gave 
me some original Corsican airs; and, at my desire, they 
brought up four of the guards of the magistracy, and made 
them show me a Corsican dance. It was truly savage. 
They thumped with their heels, sprung upon their toes, 
brandished their arms, wheeled and leaped with the most 
violent gesticulations. It gave me the idea of an admirable 
Avar dance. 

At Bogognano I came upon the same road I had for- 
merly travelled from Corte, where I arrived safe after all 
my fatigues. My good fathers of the Franciscan convent 
received me like an old acquaintance, and showed a kind 
of concern at my illness. My ague distressed me so much, 
that I was confined to the convent for several days. I did 
not, however, weary. I was visited by the Great Chan- 
cellor, and several others of the civil magistrates, and by 
Padre Mariani, rector of the university, a man of learning 
and abilities; as a proof of which, he had been three years 
at Madrid, in the character of secretary to the General of 
the Franciscans. I remember a very eloquent expression 
of his on the state of his country. " Corsica," said he, 
"has for many years past been bleeding at all her veins. 
They are now closed. But after being so severely ex- 
hausted, it will take some time before she can recover 
perfect strength." 

Indeed I should not have been at a loss, though my very 
reverend fathers had been all my society. I was not in the 
least looked upon as a heretic. Difference of faith was 
forgotten in hospitality. 

Letter to Dr. Johnson. 

On one of the days that my ague dishirbed me least, I 
walked from the Franciscan convent to Corte, purposely 
to write a letter to Mr. Samuel Johnson. I told my revered 
friend, that from a kind of superstition agreeable in a certain 
degree to him, as well as to myself, I had, during my 
travels, written to him from loca solennia, places in some 
measure sacred. That as I had written to him from the 



BOSWELL. 529 

tomb of Melancthon,(*) sacred to learning and piety, I now 
wrote to him from the palace of Pascal Paoli, sacred to 
wisdom and liberty; knowing that, however his political 
principles may have been represented, he had always a 
generous zeal for the common rights of humanity. I gave 
him a sketch of the great things I had seen in Corsica, and 
promised him a more ample relation. Mr. Johnson was 
pleased with what I wrote here; for I received at Paris an 
answer from him, which I keep as a valuable charter: — 
" When you return, you will return to an unaltered, and, 
I hope, an unalterable friend. All that you have to fear 
from me is the vexation of disappointing me. Come home, 
however, and take your chance. I long to see you, and to 
hear you; and hope that we shall not be so long separated 
again. Come home, and expect such a welcome as is due 
to him whom a wise and noble curiosity has led where, 
perhaps, no native of this country ever was before." 

(_*) BOSWELL's letter to dr. JOHNSON FROM THE TOMB OF MELANC- 
THON. 

" Sunday, 30th Sept. 1764. 
" My ever dear and much-respected Sir, — You know my solemn 
enthusiasm of mind. You love me for it, and I respect myself 
for il, because in so far I resemble Mr. Johnson. You will be 
agreeably surprised when you learn the reason of my writing this 
letter. I am at Wittemberg in Saxony. I am in the old church 
where the Reformation was first preached, and where some of the 
reformers lie interred. I cannot resist the serious pleasure of 
"writing to Mr. Johnson from the tomb of Melancthon. My paper 
rests upon the grave-stone of that great and good man, who was 
undoubtedly the worthiest of all the reformers. He wished to 
reform abuses which had been introduced into the church; but 
had no private resentment to gratify. So mild was he, that when 
his aged mother consulted him with anxiety on the perplexing 
disputes of the times, he advised her ' to keep to the old religion.' 
At this tomb, then, my ever dear and respected friend! I vow to thee 
an eternal attachment. It shall be my study to do what I can to 
render your life happy; and if you die before me, I shall endeavour 
to do honour to your memory; and, elevated by the remembrance of 
you, persist in noble piety. May God, the father of all beings, 
ever bless you! and may you continue to love your most affection- 
ate friend and devoted servant, 

"James Boswell," 



THE END. 
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history, independently of the brilliant literary reputation which places him among 

the best classics of our Augustan Age" — Lord Brougham.. 

" The friend and correspondent of Pope and Swift — the writer of some of the 
finest essays in the English language — his name continually presents itself in the 
literature and literary history of Queen Anne s reign. We would recommend his 
writings to all who wish to obtain a mastery over the resources of our language, 
and to write in such a way as to make others feel that they are in earnest." — 
Southern Literary Messenger. 



HISTORY OF 

HE WAR IN THE PENINSULA, 

AND IN THE SOUTH OF FRANCE, 

FROM THE YEAR 1807, TO THE YEAR 1814. 

BY COL. W. F. P. NAPIER, C. B. 

Carefully reprinted from the Fourth Edition, and complete in Four large Octavo 
Volumes, with fifty plates of "Plans of Battles," &c. 

" Col. Napier has now completed his arduous undertaking of recording the his- 
tory of the war which England waged in the Peninsula for six years against the 
gigantic power of Napoleon. The task was difficult: the theme a noble one: and 
we may be proud that the great deeds of our countrymen have found a worthy 
historian. * * * * By posterity this work (for to posterity it will assuredly 
descend) will be considered as the testimony of an original witness: and of a wit- 
ness, by his specific knowledge as well as his personal experience, well fitted to 
pass a judgment on the deeds which he saw and which he describes." — Edm- 
burgh Review. 



THE HISTORY OF 

THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 

IBT ISo Ao S'milllllllis 
LATE FRIINIE MINISTER OF FRANCE 

WITH ILLUSTRATIVE ANECDOTES AND NOTES FKOM THE MOST AUTHENTIC 

SOURCES. 

INCLUDING 

Mirabeau, 

Mignel, Lafayette, 

Dumourier, Lavalletle, Bour- 

rienne, Abbe Edgeworili, Louis X VIIL 

Duchess D Abrantes, Joseph Bonaparte, Sir 

'Walter Scott, Madame de Stael, Lucien Bonaparte, 

De Moleville, Las Cases, Carnot, Lacretelle, Neckar, Clery, 

Madame Roland, Biographie Moderne, The Moniteur, Alison, &c. &c. 

NOW FIRST ADDED 

BY FREDERICK SHOBERL, ESa. 

A new and beautiful editioh, in Four Volumes, 8vo. embellished with the follow- 
< ing Plates: 

Orgies of the Garde du Corps. — Portrait of Mirabeau. — Attack on 
the Tuilleries, 16th August, 1793. — Portrait of the Prin- 
cesse de Lamballe.— Louis the Sixteenth before the 
Convention.— Portrait of Marat. — Portrait of 
Bailly, Mayor of Paris. — Portrait of 
Danton. — Portrait of Madame Eli- 
zabeth. — Death of Romme, 
Goujoy, &c. &c. — Return 
of the Royal Family 
from Varennes. 



J5 1S51 




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